It's in our Blood
by Silent Quicksilver
Summary: In the year 1938 at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the four houses are divided by blood status with the Slytherins rising above all else. A young boy enters to one day become one of the greatest and most powerful wizards of all times. But it is not easy to be a Half-Blood amongst those purest in blood. This is the story of Tom Riddle.
1. Chapter I

_In the year 1938 at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the four houses are divided by blood status with the Slytherins rising above all else. A young boy enters to one day become one of the greatest and most powerful wizards of all times. But it is not easy to be a Half-Blood amongst those purest in blood. This is the story of Tom Riddle ..._

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I decided to re-write chapter I since, well, it wasn't as well written as I would prefer it to be - which people were nice to point out for me - and I found it better it suited the other chapters and my "developed" writing style more. So yeah, I hope it turned out for the better! And jeez it was a bloody long chapter... 24 pages. At four in the morning I was only at page 14 ... -_- This chapter is in total 10036 words! Phew.

To all readers, both new and old, I hope you will enjoy this Tom Riddle and OC story. I would like to point out that yes, I have indeed put it out as a "romance" story but bear with me. The plot has to develop and I have no immediate plans to let two eleven year olds fall madly in love at first sight. They start in their first year and this story will cover all seven years at Hogwarts for Tom, so there is plenty of time for them to grow on each other!

Character development is important!

But with that said, I strongly hope people will leave reviews as a way to encourage me to continue writing. I have several times almost given up on this story from the lack of interest. So please, if you enjoy what you read, let me know! Now, let the story unfold!

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**It's in our Blood**

Chapter I

* * *

"Now, are you sure you will be fine on your own?"

He looked sharply into her eyes, a hand firmly planted on her shoulder, while with the other fidgeted with the shining new Prefect Badge on his chest. She did not speak, but politely watched her brother and waited for him to finish; people rushed past them on the bustling platform as parents prepared their children for departure with the Hogwarts Express, but the two siblings had pulled against the wall, out of the way from the busy stream of witches and wizards.

"If anyone dares to mess with you come get me right away. If you cannot find me, Albert or Mathew will take care of it."

"I understand, brother, but I highly doubt it will be necessary." She spoke with a small, well-mannered voice and sent glances ever so often towards the large, golden clock, hanging above the entrance to Platform 9 ¾. A sharp whistle blew shrilly across the platform, cutting high above the noise. "Thank you, but you should meet up with the other Prefects: I will be perfectly fine, do not worry about me. Really!"

He let out a sigh and gave her a last look, his dark blue eyes scanning her face attentively. He was probably not much for letting her walk freely about, without really knowing anyone but himself and his other fifth year friends. What trouble she could get in! "Do not get a compartment if there are any Mudbloods or the like. I would prefer if you sit with some of the Slytherins, at least they can keep an eye on you."

The whistle was heard once again and she gave a faint smile, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes. "If you keep me here any longer I doubt I can even get a compartment." Fixing her black school robes, she turned to leave. "You should not worry about me, brother. I am a _Fowl_ after all."

Her older brother chuckled lowly as she vanished, dragging her heavy suitcase after her, in the crowd of parents saying their farewells to their children. Steam bellowed out from the train. Yet another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was about to begin. This time with one young witch, Elana Fowl, attending.

Dragging her heavy luggage after her through the train, she glanced into every single compartment she passed on her way in the hopes of finding a vacant one; yet all were already stuffed full with other students. Barely knowing anyone she silently wondered if perhaps she should have stuck with her brother. Even though the train ride would have been absolutely strained, she would at least have had a place to sit …

A few Gryffindors watched her curiously, as she thoughtfully looked in at them through the thin glass in the compartment door. Her eyes trailed over their scarlet and gold ties and then to the empty seat next to one of them. A scowl spread across her face. Her brother would kill the three boys if he found her there, so she moved along reluctantly. Both her arms were in agony, dragging the trunk around.

The final whistle blew, indicating the train was ready for departure. Voices reached her from the outside, several parents and siblings wishing the students a nice and safe trip. Almost stumbling from the bumping movement of the train, she grabbed a hold of the nearest object for support. Her fingers curled around the door knob and pressed it down.

Pushing the door open by accident with the weight of her body, she suddenly found herself face down on the compartment floor. The young witch blinked confused by the sudden change of scenery, feeling blood rush to her face in embarrassment. "Are you all right?" A female voice asked her worriedly from somewhere above. She felt a hand under both her arms and before she knew it, she was standing on her feet once more. Somewhat flapper gasped, she heard the voice speak up again: "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"I am–" she turned to look at the girl. "I am fine, thank you for your help." Brushing off her clothes and attempting to regain a somewhat dignified posture, she watched the chestnut haired girl pull the abandoned luggage in from the hall to the compartment. "No please, let me take it!"

Quickly grabbing the trunk from the other, the witch placed it on a unoccupied seat with much effort.

"Uhm–" the girl said, hesitating slightly, before she stretched out a hand and flashed a toothy smile. "I'm Isabella Fielding, nice to meet you!" Isabella gave a bright smile – apparently taken a liking to the girl who had suddenly appeared – and the smile showed off the gap between her front teeth.

"Ah … Nice to meet you," she met the outstretched hand with her own. "My name is Elana Fowl. Thank you for your help."

Gracefully taking a seat in the compartment, she noticed the other girl curiously watching her from across the small space. But as she met Elana's eyes a blush spread over her cheeks and she turned her gaze downwards. "S-sorry for staring … It's just," once again her head snapped up eagerly, eyes full of excitement at the outlook for someone to talk to. "I've never spoken to anyone like_ me_ before!"

Her eyebrow scooted up almost unnoticeably. "Someone like you?"

"Well, everyone from school said I was a freak for what I could do, you know? Accidently setting things on fire, levitating books, you know? _Those_ things. That I should be locked up and all! I actually believed it myself in the end, but then I got my letter and it explained everything." Isabella looked completely as if she was in a state of pure delight, having suddenly been told she was not an abomination – unlike what everyone believed. But the girl sitting across of her was pale.

"Your parents are Mud- No, I mean, Muggles?"

"Non-magical people, right? I guess! Dad's a doctor and my mom is taking care of my little brother at home. None of them had ever heard of Hogwarts or believed in magic before." An odd feeling roamed in Elana's stomach; she felt bad for the girl. Thinking she had found others just like her and being so happy about it … Yet there she was, about to enter Hogwarts, full of pureblood fanatics that would regard her as unworthy, _disgusting_ even. "The shock they received …"

She forced a strained smile at the girl's laughter, not wishing to ruin the other's joy. "It will be fun, I am sure."

A silence fell over the two. Isabella fumbled with her newly acquired wand while glancing down into her Charm's book. She muttered a few spells and hopefully watched her oak wand, yet nothing happened and a crestfallen look appeared across her features. It did not take long before she attempted once more. Elana was watching the passing, ever changing landscape outside, with its green slopes and trees rushing by in a blur of colours.

She glanced towards the reddening sun, slowly setting in the distance over a pair of mountains; a faint golden red light reached her through the train windows and illuminated the compartment. Her mind was clouded over in thought, sending gazes towards the other witch once in a while before, her brow furrowed, looked back down into her lap. Her stomach felt queasy.

* * *

It had gotten dark outside, stars dotted the night sky high above and the crescent moon peeked out through the cover of clouds, bathing the landscape in an eerie, silvery glow and cast wretched shadows from the trees. It would not be long before their arrival at the castle; neither her brother nor any of his friends had come by for her and she was glad they had not. Elana had been able to talk quite a lot with her first friend, something – the back of her mind gleefully reminded her – she would most likely not be able to once they reached Hogwarts. That she was well aware of …

"Hey, Elana … What house do you want to be sorted into?" Isabella suddenly asked. She had explained the Muggle-born girl of the different Houses at Hogwarts, amongst several other things, as she had been basically bombarded with questions during the long trip.

She turned her head towards her friend and answered immediately, without skipping a single beat, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Slytherin." All of her family had been placed there and she could not imagine anything else. Not unless she wanted to be a disgrace and bring shame over the Fowl family, which, of course, she preferred to avoid at all costs.

"Then I want to be in Slytherin too!"

Elana forced a smile. "Great."

* * *

Leaving their belongings on the overcrowded platform, she felt a hand grab hold of her left sleeve in between the other students; her eyes met Isabella's and she smiled, taking the hand in her own. "Stick with me," she instructed, taking it upon herself to protect the other witch and steered them both in the direction of the other first years.

A woman, probably in her mid-thirties and with a strong, stern face that appeared above the sea of witches and wizards, ushered the nervous and excited newcomers together and gave the crowd a quick look over. "First years! All first years gather up here! The rest of you to the carriages– That means you too, Middleton! Yes, I can see what you're doing– Stop it! First years, here please! Hurry up!"

When what Elana assumed to be a Professor had gathered all of them together, she quickly moved along the platform away from the elder students. Still clinging onto the warm hand, she obediently followed the witch down a steep, narrow path. Her stomach churned from nerves. The surrounding area was wrapped in pitch black darkness, but, glancing upwards, she could make out the glowing moon through a thick cover of tree branches.

Barely anyone spoke a word on the trip, but Elana could feel the heavy tension in the air and she gripped harder around Isabella's hand. It felt clammy, both from the cold but also from the nerve-wracking excitement of the entire situation – perhaps it was her own hand? A loud, collective "Oh!" was heard from the front and soon after they saw it as well. Her jaw dropped at the sight. Her brother had told her several stories of the place, but not even her wildest of dreams and expectations lived up to what emerged in the night ahead.

The path had opened up onto the edge of a great lake and, rising above them in the darkness, perched on top of the mountain on the other side of the murky waters, was the enormous castle. Hogwarts. Its many towers reached towards the starry sky and small lights, what could only be windows, glimmered as hundreds of eyes in the night. The professor, accustomed to the sight, quickly broke the astonished silence and ordered them down into the small fleet of small boats.

"No more than four, understood? I don't plan to fish any of you up …" She muttered something incomprehensible, and Elana got the feeling it would not be the first time someone had taken a plunge through the dark waters. She shivered at the thought. Isabella managed to get into the same boat as her, as well as two mousy haired boys, and the boat rocked back and forth as the weight changed; but it appeared somewhat steady and Elana allowed a sigh of relief.

It did not take long before all the boats were filled and they sailed out onto the Black Lake. "Amazing …" She heard Isabella stutter behind her, wording what everyone without a doubt was thinking. She silently agreed, at a complete loss of words. It really was an amazing sight to behold; Hogwarts. The big castle would almost be a second home to all of them for the next seven years, and it most certainly was a remarkable view to call _home_.

The boats glided across the lake, which was almost as smooth as glass, and the surface was barely disturbed by the small fleet as it carved through the dark waters. A steep cliff towered ahead of them and, sailing through a curtain of ivy that had hid the secret opening of the rocks, they lost view of the castle to in stead pass through a narrow tunnel. They were all forced to bow their heads, avoiding the sharp edges of the rock. Elana looked ahead and saw several first years already on solid ground, taking in their surroundings and the underground harbour with complete fascination – no one had probably ever seen anything like it.

The crowd was herded up a flight of stone steps to a large, oaken door so tall Elana wondered if it was only meant for humans to enter – or built for something much larger. The door swung open without a single touch and revealed on the other side was a magnificent entrance hall; the stone walls were lined with burning torches that illuminated the floor as well as the grand, marble staircase that lead to the upper floors. A shimmer caught her eyes and she glanced to a niche at her left, where four hourglasses covered the area between the wall and the ceiling. Each was filled with different coloured gems – red, green, blue and yellow – to represent their appointed House's colours.

She followed the others to the right, towards another doorway. Through the heavy wood Elana could hear the roaring sound of hundreds of voices, chatting away all at once; expecting the professor would send them in to the other students, she was taken by surprise when they were directed to a small chamber in stead. Even though the room was more than big enough to hold them all, everyone seemed to huddle close together for a sense of comfort and reassurance.

Isabella had found her hand again and a fuzzy warm feeling spread in her stomach, subduing her previous fears. A smile formed at her lips and she looked towards the other girl. The professor turned to face them: "Welcome to Hogwarts. I will begin by introducing myself: I am Professor Galatea Merrythought, teacher in Defence Against the Dark Arts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly in the Great Hall, but before that you will be sorted into your respective houses through a Ceremony. While you are here at Hogwarts, the other members of your house will be close to a family and you will attend classes with those from the same house, as well as sleep in the house dormitories."

Elana exchanged a meaningful look with the other witch. They had to get into Slytherin. Both of them.

"The houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin," her stomach clenched in anticipation as the last name was mentioned. She would not disappoint her family. "All four houses have its own history and nobility, and from each one of them has housed several bright and talented witches and wizards. While at Hogwarts, your outstanding performances and triumphs will be awarded points, just as well as any misdoings and rule-breakings will result in a loss of points. At the end of the year, the house that has the most points will be awarded the house cup. A great honour. Each and every one of you should do your absolute best to show respect to your house."

Professor Merrythought announced the Sorting Ceremony would begin shortly, before she left the chamber for a short period of time and left the first years alone. No one spoke at first, but people slowly began exchanging words with those around them; Elana immediately turned her attention to the Muggle-born girl. "Remember," she said and looked into the azure blue eyes of her newfound friend. "Slytherin, right?"

She nodded. "Yes, I promise. But … This _ceremony_ …? What is it all about, do you know?"

"My brother told me of it and it should not be anything scary," Elana noticed how several others around them listened in, eager to hear any form of comforting words; she imagined how most dreaded the ceremony to be some display of magical talents in front of the entire student body, as well as the staff. "You just step forward once they call your name and then you have to, well, sit until it is decided."

"That's all?" Her brow knotted together in disbelief. "Really?"

"Yes, apparently. We will enter and get sorted one by one in front of everyone." Now that she thought about it, it did not exactly sound like a lot of fun. But her train of thought was broken as the professor appeared once more. Following the professor and everyone else through the doors, opening up around them, she stepped into the Great Hall.

Butterflies roamed freely in her stomach, causing havoc in their rampage and made her feel nauseous. But she silently reprimanded herself to pull together; Elana had not expected herself to be nervous, but as hundreds of faces turned in their direction any thoughts of calmness vanished from her mind in the blink of an eye. Her eyes flickered to the enchanted ceiling, reflecting the clear and dark-blue sky and the hundreds of stars; levitating candles burned brightly as they hovered several feet above their heads.

But then she looked over the four house tables to the Slytherin table near one of the walls. Her brother was sitting near the teachers' end with his friends, ready to greet new students as a Prefect duty; their identical eyes met and he nodded briskly towards her, nudging another wizard in the side with an elbow. Without thinking about it, she released the witch's hand. The two boys whispered together lowly while turning their attention towards the Sorting Hat. She did the same.

The nervous first years gathered at the steps, the house tables behind them and the teachers' in front just as the hat, perched on top of a stool, suddenly burst out into song, spooking most of them completely. A few of the older students joined in, apparently knowing the lyrics, but Elana merely glanced at Isabella. "Promise we will both get into Slytherin?" She seemed too nervous to speak, but nodded furiously with a grin on her face. As long as she could get Isabella into the same house, she would be able to look after her, possibly protect her from the other purebloods.

Then the song ended and the Sorting Ceremony began.

One by one, the name of a first year was called and, whoever mentioned, walked trembling forward towards the hat. She felt her heartbeat quicken in her chest, her breathing ragged as she watched the group around her diminish from each person sorted. A boy tripped over the stairs in his eagerness to get to the Hufflepuff table, thankful the ceremony was over for him; a few snickered and Elana heard a single, crude remark, but his new comrades helped the now blushing wizard to his feet and into a seat.

"Fielding, Isabella."

She felt a reassuring squeeze around her hand before her friend moved up to the stool. Her blue eyes disappeared under the brim of the Sorting Hat. Elana's breath hitched in her throat and she held her breath … Time stood still; her heartbeat rapid in her chest as she silently prayed in her mind, hoping anyone would answer her prayer.

_Slytherin … Slytherin. _

Her blood turned to ice in her veins as the hat finally spoke, its voice ringing clearly in the hall as it roared out a name. The _wrong_ name. "Gryffindor!" All air left her lungs. No. Their eyes met as the brown haired girl walked towards the table that roared and cheered as they welcomed a new member of the family. No. Elana turned her face away, biting down into her lip.

Why did it happen? _Why_?

Even though they had only known each other for a few hours, less than a day even, she felt so heartbroken and_ betrayed_. Elana had no real friends, no one her age to talk to, and she thought she had finally found that one person, the only one she would need to get through Hogwarts without being alone. That one dream, that small, selfish wish … shattered in mere seconds.

"Fowl, Elana."

She stepped up, eyes firmly planted on the floor in front of her, not wanting to look at anything or _anyone_ at that time. She felt tears sting the corner of her eyes, but she blinked furiously to get them away. There barely was a reason for her to sit down before she heard the predicted house get shouted out. It did not even touch her head. "Slytherin!" She felt hollow, like she had lost all emotions in her body. Loud cheering and clapping forced its way into her head; Slytherin proudly welcomed another Fowl to their ranks.

Her brother had saved a seat by him, clearly not surprised of the outcome. She slid down onto the bench beside him. "You did not disappoint," he praised. She forced a smile, before staring at the plate in front of her; her face was reflected by the golden platter and, unhappy with what she saw, she cringed her face away.

"What is to be expected of me, of course." Elana responded dully. Then she merely sat there, listening to her brother's conversation with his two closest friends and barely paid any attention to the Sorting Ceremony. It was for the better, she told herself. A _mudblood _such as Isabella had no real place in Slytherin and she would be much better of in Gryffindor, where no one cared about blood status. But still …

Someone sat down next to her. She felt the fabric of another robe against her own and she glanced at the boy from the corner of an eye; their eyes met, his dark, bordering to black, and she turned her gaze back onto her plate, jaw tightly clenched. He dismissed her quickly.

It did not take long before the Sorting had come to an end, sending a last girl to the Hufflepuff table after having embarrassed herself by tripping on her way – apparently it was a recurring thing for _those _kinds of people. When the laughter had stilled, the Headmaster walked forward and welcomed all – both new and old – before the feast appeared out of thin air onto the table in front of them. Elana did not feel like eating at all, but after her brother urged her, his tone strict, she forced a few bites down her throat, even though it felt like swallowing sandpaper.

"Is something the matter, Elana?" One of his friends asked from across the table as he noted her glum facial expression. "You have not said a thing tonight." Turning her face upwards, she looked at him: Mathew Selwyn, eldest son of the Selwyn family and a frequent visitor at her family's estate; she had to be polite to him – he usually treated her with kindness, like an older brother, but right at that moment she had a hard time keeping her voice polite when speaking. Even towards him.

"I am just not hungry." Elana forced a small smile, but it only came out as a grimace. "It is nothing."

She could feel her brother's analyzing stare next to her, but she did not look his way but merely kept eye contact with the boy opposite her. "Something happened on the train?" Albert Gamp – her brother's second friend, and a rather annoying one at that – then proceeded to ask, while poking a fork towards her. "Selwyn said he saw you with some girl. Found her rather odd, didn't he?" Her face darkened.

"_What_?" She cringed inwardly at the tone of her brother. They clearly had not shared this information with him. "What do you mean with _odd_? _Selwyn?_" Elana silently prayed in her mind that Selwyn, who had merely listened to the foreboding conversation until then, would not say anything that would perhaps turn her brother's attention onto Isabella. Rather let the girl enjoy a peaceful time in her new house than get involved with Elana and her family.

"It was nothing, Elliot." He said coolly as he did not find her brother's surfacing anger unnerving what so ever; not like her and Albert who were both expecting a lecture at any moment. "I thought I saw something, but obviously I did not after looking further into it. I was probably being paranoid, that is all."

She was happy Selwyn always stayed rather calm in these situations and he had probably read her expression a long time ago: of her brother's two friends, she liked him more. He was calculating and considerate, never spoke unless it was necessary and even then it was not always he did so. He was composed. And most of the time on her side.

But Elliot did not seem to believe him fully, knowing him too well. His eyes were still narrowed into thin slits. "Elana," she closed her eyes, biting down into her lower lip before she looked at him, hoping she had stilled her emotions enough to appear indifferent. He put a hand on both sides of her face and forced her to look at him fully. "Tell me." He ordered, unblinking and she resisted the urge to turn her face away.

"I just … sat in the same compartment as another girl. We did not even speak."

"You should not lie."

She took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. "I am not."

As the feast had ended, she had hoped to escape from her brother's grasp but unfortunately, like all the other first years, she had to follow the Prefects down to the dungeons and the Slytherin Common Room. Trailing behind him, eyes firmly planted on his straight back as he easily cut through the crowd, she got pushed back and forth between all the students. But she did not care.

That was until someone suddenly grabbed her hand and she found herself pulled back, away from the Slytherin group. Her eyes widened in surprise. "Elana," she came face to face with her friend; a pang shot through her chest as they looked at each other. "I'm sorry, I didn't keep my promise … I really begged the hat to put me in Slytherin! But it wouldn't let me, I swear. It said I did not belong there, that my place was in Gryffindor–"

Elana did not respond; she just stood there. She did not know what to say, if there was anything to say at all. Nothing could change it now. "There is nothing to do about it, but … Isabella, we cannot–" She was suddenly cut off, feeling a hand placed on top of her head. Her friend's eyes widened, looking up at the person behind the pureblood witch.

"You should stick with the group, Elana." She could not breathe. She did not know how to react at the sound of her brother's warning tone. "And who is this? Someone you know?" He directed his attention towards the girl in front of them; she could just imagine him eyeing her up and down, taking measures and trying to figure her out. Figure out her _blood status_.

"I'm-"

The pressure of the hand on her head weighed her down, tormenting her into saying what she said next: "No," Elana spoke, her voice drained from any emotion that was screaming to break free from her mind. "I do not know her. I have never seen her before … she just decided to talk to me." Elana turned around with a silent wish she had never seen the hurt look on Isabella's face; she met her brother's gaze, heart shattering as she did. She would always choose her family. "Let's go."

They walked down towards the dungeons, the other girl left behind. _Sorry_, but she had had to do it. If first her brother thought something might have happened between her and the Muggle-born girl, he would make Isabella's life a living hell. Those few words and Elana had avoid the disaster. "Why did she talk to you?"

"I do not know."

"She seemed to know you." He inquired further.

"She probably mistook me for someone else; I would never allow myself to know someone from Gryffindor. Too filthy …" Elana spat out the last words. He touched the top of her head again, this time only briefly but she sensed a different emotion, before he gave up the password into the Slytherin common room, _Pure blood. _

"Make sure to not associate with anyone of her kind, it was obvious she was a Mudblood. If you taint our name you will be pulled out of this school immediately, understood?" He whispered in her ear, his warning something she had gotten used to a long time ago. She bowed her head. "Good. Go sleep then."

* * *

That evening she barely spoken to the four other girls in her dormitory other than quickly having introduced herself and bid them goodnight: their names were something that had gone straight thought her mind into oblivion. Not that she cared …

When Elana woke up the next morning, her body aching from the new madras, she got dressed into her school uniform without really noticing she was – in fact – awake; one of the other girls was up as well and attempted to strike a conversation with her, but she merely walked out the door and down the stairs once she had finished.

Her bag had already been packed with the day's books, hanging from her shoulder and bounced off her hip as she walked, and she did not plan on returning to the Slytherin common room until late in the evening. Her plan for that day were to eat an early breakfast, in the hopes of not meeting anyone at all, go to classes, and then spent the rest of the day in the library. All by herself. Perfect. Elana's brief urge for company had been shattered into pieces at the sorting ceremony and she had instantly returned to her normal self.

Other people slowed her down.

They were there to be used, nothing more, nothing less.

As she walked into the great hall she glanced around. The Slytherin table was abandoned and only a few Hufflepuffs had managed to get up early on the first day of a new term. They paid no attention to the first year girl as she took a seat; reaching for a platter of fruit, she then stared at the ripe apple in her hands, not really having the stomach to eat anything at all. Elana pulled the bag closer and opened it; quickly after she pulled out her _Magical Draughts and Potions_ as she could just as well pass time reading up for her first subject.

Turning a page, loud noises were heard from the entrance and she glanced up. She recognized the two girls from her dorm and heaved a sigh before turning her attention to the book once more: if only they did not notice her. "Ah," one of them exclaimed, taking a seat next to her. "Elana. Can I call you Elana? Good morning." The other one took a seat across from the two, silently, as she started to put on food onto her plate.

"Good morning." Elana greeted politely as she still kept her focus in the book. Too bad they had spotted her. "And you may call me Elana, yes, Miss …" She trailed off, remembering she could not put a name on the blonde's pretty face. "I am terribly sorry, but I seem to have forgotten your name. With all that has happened …"

"It's- it's fine!" She laughed, clearly not too happy the Fowl in front of her did not find it necessary to remember who she was. "I am Margaret Newell." Elana's brow furrowed, the name ringing a bell somewhere deep down in a corner of her mind. _Newell_. Her eyes flickered over the girl once more, taking in her angelic features, the long, curly blond hair and storm grey eyes. At least the girl was pretty.

"You would not possibly be related to Ralph Newell?"

"Oh yes, I am! He's my grandfather, you heard of him?" She asked eagerly.

"Hm … I have." _Half-blood_, she dismissed her quickly. She had been taught when to show kindness and when _not_ to. This was a case of the latter – the Fowl family had no use of someone with mixed blood like her.

Margaret clearly noticed that the witch started loosing interest in her, so she quickly pointed towards the girl, who was currently eating a plate of pancakes with an indifferent, bored expression. "And this is my very good friend, actually my best, Adriana Greengrass!" The girl's eyes met Elana's through a pair of glasses and nodded shortly, before turning her attention towards her plate. Greengrass was bordering on chubby, her brownish red hair pulled tightly into a ponytail and several freckles filled out her cheeks.

"Nice to meet you," Elana said, this time a bit more interested in the latter as the Greengrass was a quite renowned pure-blood family, and she would prefer to keep a good relationship with their only daughter. But with that introduction, she turned a page and gave the girl next to her the impression of _not_ disturbing her any further. Neither of their families matched hers in any way.

Elana had hoped to shake the two girls off on her way down to Potions, but every though there was still a good few minutes before their first class started, they had followed behind. Newell constantly kept yapping on about her _father's_ side of the family – strategically leaving out her Muggle mother – while Greengrass trailed behind, obviously paying as much attention as Elana.

"–which reminds me, your brother was made both Prefect and captain of the Quidditch team this year, was he not?" She turned on her heel, walking backwards so she could look at the pure-blood girl properly. Her curly hair bobbed up and down with each step she took.

"Yes."

"That is so amazing, what is to be expected of the Fowl family!"

"Yes."

"I can only imagine you will do just as perfect as him here at Hogwarts!"

"That is the plan, yes."

The girl was trying rather desperately to get on Elana's good side, but it was perfectly clear for the pureblood, as she had met others of the same kind before: they only wanted to get close to her due to her family. She had used Greengrass as a stepping stone and now Elana was next. Like she would ever allow it, to be used by a half-blood … even though she was not much for admitting it, but she was indeed a pureblood fanatic like most others in Slytherin. But if anything, she could blame it on the way she was raised.

It was in her blood to recognize _her_ kind.

They came to a halt outside the door into Potions, a few other first years gathered around already. The corridor was cold and clammy. "Eh? Oh no, don't tell me we have class with _them_." Newell exclaimed as she saw the other first years, clapping her hands together in front of her mouth. Elana had already noticed earlier when she had overlooked her time-table and now she was merely hoping she would not run into Isabella.

"Just because they are from Gryffindor does not mean you can speak like that, Miss Newell." Elana corrected her, taking a spot near the entrance and watched the two others follow suit. "It could have been much worse and it is not very ladylike whatsoever, so I advice you to mind your tongue. At least around me."

"You are absolutely right … It could have been Hufflepuffs. Most Mudbloods end up there, stupid as they are." From the corner of her eye, Elana noticed how they had drawn attention from some of the other students around them with their talk; they were obviously not very popular at that moment, receiving glares from all directions.

She decided to not take any further part in the conversation, which she should not have from the very beginning, and in stead watched the door, eyebrow raised in mild interest, as a strange rustle came from the other side: She straightened up when it was pulled inwards to reveal their Potions professor. He was an elderly man with somewhat straw blonde hair, yet greying at the roots; a stomach showing he certainly did not starve; and an unreadable look in his eyes as he overlooked the first years. "Come in, come in, everyone!"

She felt a pair of hands on the back of her robes and before she knew of it, she was pushed inside the classroom with everyone else. "Let's sit in the front!" Newell whispered excitedly in her ear, clearly whishing to leave a good first impression. Elana sped up in order to get the hands off her back and steered towards the tables at the front; she pulled out one of the chairs and took a seat almost exactly in front of the teacher.

"Yes, last one closes the door, please. Thank you. Now," his light blue eyes scanned over the crowd still in the middle of finding non-occupied seats. Elana found Newell by her left side and Greengrass at the end of the table; with the sound of a chair being pulled out, she glanced to her right to find the same boy, who had been seated next to her in the Great Hall, to sit down. His black hair was partly hiding his eyes and she was unable to read his facial expression; she somewhat wondered if he was purposely sitting by her all the time of it there just were no other seats.

Rather suspicious of the boy – as she was of everyone – she kept sending glances his way as the professor introduced himself. "Welcome to Hogwarts, all of you. I take it this is your first lesson this year. I am Professor Horace Slughorn and I will be your Potions teacher and," he nodded his head in the direction of the Slytherins, who had all occupied the left side of the room. "Head of Slytherin House."

_Horace Slughorn_, her brother had told her about him and his little club. He was apparently a teacher she should stay on the good side off; she pulled out her book from her bag once again at his request and yet again her attention was caught by the boy next to her. His book was old, shabby and had clearly been used before … a hand down perhaps?

"Everyone please find the Boil-Cure Potion in your textbooks." He told them all and Elana turned to one of the first pages of the book, having read about the potion earlier that day. Being studious paid of already. "Gather in pairs and let us see if you have a natural flair for Potions!" Elana looked first to her left, glancing, and noticed Margaret was trying to get her attention.

"I think you should pair with Miss Greengrass," Elana said with a polite smile as she turned down the girl before being asked. Not bothered too much by the dejected face of the other she looked towards the boy by her right. "Excuse me?" She spoke and caught his attention. "Would you like to pair up?"

She was not quite sure what it was about him, but something was strange about the boy in front of her. He did not seem anything like a pureblood or the likes, but something … He nodded curtly. Something was off about him … "Tom Riddle."

Understanding he had just introduced himself, she did the same. "Elana Fowl, pleasure to meet you." She pulled out the necessary ingredients to make the potion from the small kit she had brought along; she tapped the vial with crushed snake fangs before setting it down on the table. Then she proceeded to unfold her golden scales, knowing they would be of use later on in the class. The black haired boy next to her was already heating up the cauldron over the fire and she silently praised his speed. Not able to find her _Flobberworm Mucus_ her brow furrowed. "I must have run out …" She muttered under her breath and reached up a hand. "Professor?"

He walked over after he heard her call, taking in the girl in front of him. "Are there problems?" His eyes looked over the boiling cauldron and then back to her, clearly assessing the situation. Gathering people for his club this early on in the year.

"No, sir, I have unfortunately forgotten to restock on Flobberworm Mucus. Would there possible be a chance I could borrow some?" She made sure to smile sweetly, well aware of when it was time to _ingratiate _herself with someone. The Head of House was one of the priorities on her list.

"Yes, yes," the teacher moved to his supply cupboard with a sigh, and it did not take long before he had returned, a small vial of greenish goo in his hands. "Here you go, Miss …?" She reached over the table and took the ingredient from him, keeping a thankful smile on her lips.

"My name is Elana Fowl, sir." It was rather obvious he recognized her name as his eyes widened, first in shock then in delight. She handed over the vial to Riddle next to her, well aware of the fact the professor was not done with her just yet.

"Elana Fowl! No doubt your brother is Elliot, am I correct?" She nodded and kept up her smiling façade. "I certainly look forward to teaching you Miss Fowl, if you are half as brilliant as your brother! But I am sure you will have no trouble what so ever," he praised her while she merely wished he would go away again; it did not seem fair to her that Tom Riddle had to do all the work, while she merely conversed with Slughorn.

"I will do my best, professor." She watched as the potion turned purple with the addition of the Mucus without her help; she measures the dried nettles and helped put them in after the liquid had changed colour once again, this time to a bright orange. From the corner of an eye she watched the professor hurry off to another table, as one of the Gryffindors had set his own book on fire. "It seems like you do not need my help." She spoke, trying to start a conversation with her partner, curious about this _riddle_.

"Seems not."

And that was that conversation, brutally butchered. She sighed.

They were the first to finish the potion and they had even managed to make the brew bright pink; the boy next to her had continued heating even after it had reached the correct stage of red, even though she had inquired as to _why_. He had brushed off her questions and not stopped until he was satisfied. When Slughorn had noticed the excellent potion they were praised to the clouds, having made a perfect Boil-Cure Potion. Their achievement made them score ten points to Slytherin.

She had been right; her gut had picked up on him from the beginning. He was different, no doubt about it. She picked up her books while listening to the ramblings of the Potions master, once again going on and on about her brother. "–and I am sure you have heard of my little _gathering_," she nodded slightly, only keeping track of the conversation with one ear. Her eyes trailed the classroom. "I would love to see both you and– ah! I did not get to invite Mr. Riddle, where did that boy go?"

"I believe he just left, sir."

"Do me a favour, Miss Fowl? Next time you see him, please do tell him I said that."

"Of course, sir."

She picked up her bag and nodded curtly towards the professor as she bid him a good day. Then she walked out of the classroom as one of the last, noticing the two Slytherin girls had not waited for her much to her pleasure. As much as she _enjoyed_ listening to Newell's constant talking, she found walking alone much more preferred.

Someone else had waited, though …

She recognized the brown haired girl at the entrance, having stayed behind in order to talk to her. Elana picked up her pace, quickly passed through the door and the witch without a single glance in the other's direction. "Elana!" Isabella called out after her, her voice echoing softly in the corridor. But the pureblood did not stop.

Her eyes scanned over the first years, desperately attempting to find someone she knew. She saw him walk a bit further ahead in the hallway, alone and she ran for it, getting a hold of his robes before she thought it through. "Riddle," he turned his face downwards to her and she slowly noted in her mind that he was in fact taller than her. That annoyed her somehow.

His pale expression barely held any emotions except perhaps faint curiosity. "What can I help you with?"

"I … Professor Slughorn invited you to a gathering here in the … near future." She glanced back in order to locate the other girl, but she was no where to be seen. _Good. _"And, yes, that was it, really." His eyebrow rose slightly at her behaviour just as his eyes flickered to behind her.

"Elana, why are you avoiding me?" She had not noticed when, but all of a sudden Isabella had snuck up on her from behind, grabbing a hold of her shoulder to stop her from escaping: her eyes widened and before she had thought it over, she turned and slapped the arm away. What else could she do?

"Stop touching me!" Elana exclaimed at the perplexed looking Gryffindor; she knew what she had to do in order to stop Isabella from constantly trying to make contact with her. It was for the best. "It is disgusting to have a filthy _Mudblood_ talk to me, so just stay away."

Everyone was watching as she trashed the girl in front of her; the dungeon was still after her outburst and she felt her heart hurt, when tears swelled up in the brown haired girl's eyes. Then the droplets rolled down her cheeks, dripping onto the floor and soaked into her blouse. "I- I thought we were friends …"

"Guess again, we are not." Her voice was icily cold, matching the temperature of the dungeons well; it was far too easy to put on the mask of a pureblood, since deep down she was one. Ono, who had to protect her family's name. "Just looking at you makes me sick."

Elana turned on her heel in order to leave the dungeon; she did her best to not look at the crying girl and her eyes fell over Riddle for a split second. The boy was watching the ordeal with faint curiosity. She dismissed it quickly. Her footsteps echoed through the halls, she felt cold but at the same time satisfied. Isabella would most likely never talk to her again.

"Hey!" A voice called out to her and she paused. She turned to look over her shoulder, brushing a strand of black hair away from her face so she could see the newly arrived wizard clearly. She raised an eyebrow and took in the Gryffindor boy, his hand resting on Isabella's shoulder and he attempted to soothe the sobbing witch but in vain. Her tears kept falling. "What makes you think you can talk to her like that?"

"Gryffindor stands united, how nice …" She muttered. It was not like she had not expected it, rather hoped for it: since if they stood up for her, she would easier get accepted into her own House in stead of being associated with a Slytherin. But perhaps it was not too good for Elana though, as it seemed quite a few red and gold clad first years backed up the girl.

"Apologize right now." The boy insisted, step by step coming closer to the black haired girl. "Or you leave me no choice but to–"

"But to _what_?" Elana shot back at him with an eyebrow raised and let out a humourless laugh. "I do not like the tone you are using I must admit; if you wish to speak with me I suggest you change your attitude first." She crossed her hands across her chest while making sure her wand was secured in the nearest pocket, within reach if it turned out she would need it. It certainly appeared like she would.

"Look who is talking, that's not a way to act!" As he made his way closer, Elana was prepared when he finally reached for his wand; she reacted even before he had time to cast a spell. With the word _Expelliarmus_ his wand flew through the hall and landed on the floor in front of her; she leaned down and picked it up.

"Think twice before picking your opponent." She warned as she twirled the extra wand between her fingers. The boy did not seem too faced with the fact she was currently holding his weapon; he rather seemed ready to jump her and go on Muggle style. Which, in that case, would make him win. Elana's eyes narrowed. "Now, if you will have me excused …"

She once again made her leave, when yet _another_ voice spoke up. "_What _exactly is going on here?" Elana looked down the hall at the teacher; the woman strictly overlooked the scene, from the Slytherin to the two Gryffindors, whereas one of them was a sobbing girl. She stormed over and before Elana could react, the professor had a firm grip around her upper arm. "Who does that wand belong to?" She inquired, nodding at the second wand in her hands.

"Him," she responded, trying to peel her arm free from the death lock. "But professor, it was merely self defence. He drew his wand to attack and I had to react." But the teacher did not seem to listen to her story what so ever, but turned her attention from one Gryffindor to another with a steel gaze. Her mouth was pulled back into a thin, white line.

"All four of you got detention!"

Her brow furrowed as she turned her head upwards to the witch. "Excuse me, professor, but ... four?" As far as she was able to count, they were only three involved in the ordeal; herself, even though she was not much for admitting it, the boy and Isabella. _But the last_? That she could not figure out. "You must be mistaken." Her eyes scanned over the crowd gathered and tried to figure out exactly what the woman had meant.

"Oh, but I think I made myself completely clear." Elana felt her arm stretch as the teacher pulled it upwards; while with the other hand she pointed a half-wrinkled finger towards the two Gryffindors. "You three and your little friend, right there. I have a feeling snakes help each other out."

Absolutely astonished and outraged by the insult, she looked at where the woman pointed. _Tom Riddle. _"That is–" She wrested her arm free and faced the woman head on, holding her head high to look her directly in the eye. "I will not allow you to talk to me like that. Do you have any idea who I am? I will have you _fired_, how _dare _you insult me that deeply?"

The professor tilted her head slightly, a taunting smirk spread across her lips. "But is it not the truth?" Elana could feel her blood boil because of the person in front of her; she did _not _allow anyone to talk to her like that. It was an insult. Outrageous! "So I want to see all four of you at detention this Sunday and fifty points from both Gryffindor and Slytherin!" The professor's eyes ran over the four before turning on a heel and stormed off, somewhat rather proud of herself. Elana gaped after her, not able to comprehend what had just happened, nor how severe their punishment had been.

"What on earth just …" She glanced towards Riddle and saw his pale expression; he made eye contact with her for a split second before he left in the same direction as the teacher. "… happened?" Unable to really understand the situation, she glanced back a final time towards the two Gryffindors with a bad taste in her mouth before walking off towards her next class.

* * *

Elana only stared at the desk in front of her during the Transfiguration lesson, slowly tracing a pair initials, carved into the wood, not even bothered to listen to the white haired professor, who somewhat seemed to peer at her – or perhaps it was merely her imagination? But she could not help to glance when he transformed his desk into a large, pink pig which, in return for the newfound life, decided to run for the nearest exit; as it passed between the desks, a few girls squeaked and before Elana looked around, everything was just one big messy chaos.

Papers were flying everywhere; the pig ran squealing back and forth and nearly tackled a Ravenclaw boy, but he miraculously managed to dodge the panicking animal in time and he slid across the floor. Elana, silently happy she had picked a seat in the far corner away from all the chaos, merely enjoyed the entertainment unfolding in front of her eyes.

And as far as she could see, so was the professor. His half-moon spectacles were gleaming in the light from the open windows as the two girls from Elana's dorm – whose names she had yet to remember – climbed a table and stood, holding onto each other for dear life, and screamed for someone to safe them.

Rolling her eyes inwardly and with the wish of getting the class over with, the pureblood girl raised her wand. With a sigh she tabbed her wand three times and pointed it at the animal, speaking the incantation. _"Fera Verto."_ Everything in the room fell silent as the pig was suddenly turned into a water goblet, slowly spinning on its foot before it finally stood completely still; then she looked towards the professor and asked, hand only half raised, knowing well she already had his attention. "Sorry to interrupt, but is there any chance we could possible continue the lesson?"

She hated that prickling feeling when someone stared at her; but it had _not_ been the best day of her life and, although it was amusing at first, she really just wanted to get it all over with. So she had come up with the first transfiguration spell she could think of, which ended up in the teacher's desk being a goblet on the floor. At least it was not as noisy as the pig …

"Excellent work, Miss Fowl, quite excellent." The professor exclaimed, levitating the goblet towards him and with a quick jab with his wand, it was once again restored to its original form. Elana's brow furrowed slightly as she wondered how he knew her name; she had not introduced herself and the four other girls from Slytherin could just as well have been her. "Ten points to Slytherin."

She was slowly, but steadily, regaining the lost points already ...


	2. Chapter II

I decided to rewrite this chapter now I was at it anyways.

Do review! And enjoy.

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter II

* * *

He looked back towards the young girl at the back of the class, who had just performed a transfiguration without trouble, and an odd feeling roamed in his body as he raised an eyebrow at her. She had her attention directed towards the professor, to whom she nodded slowly at as thanks for the points; so far he did not like her very much, in fact his feelings for the witch bordered on absolute dislike … but at the same time he did not like any of the other students. But her even less than the rest.

Why? He did not exactly know.

Quickly turning his gaze away as her dark blue eyes flickered to him, he suppressed a scowl and forced his heartbeat to still. He had only known her for a single day – well, rather than calling it _knowing _her it was more of a brief coorporation in Potions – but he already knew _exactly _what kind of person she was. And to top it all off, the witch had even resulted in him getting a detention. On his first day at Hogwarts. Him. Yes … he certainly did not like her at all.

He clenched his jaw and turned his attention towards the professor; the very same man, who had first told him he was a wizard in the Wool's Orphanage a few month back. So Tom Riddle found himself stuck in a room with two people he did _not _feel comfortable around at all, and he would be for a very long time. The young boy suppressed a sigh and tried to keep track of the class and discarded the annoying thoughts.

It seemed to work and he spent the rest of the lesson taking notes, as Dumbledore gave a presentation on the subject of Transfiguration; ever so often he felt the professor's gaze fall upon him, and every time he suppressed a scowl, not wanting the old wizard to know it was bothering him even for a bit. But he did not like being observed.

The Ravenclaw and Slytherin first years filed out of the Transfiguration classroom at the end of class, and he ignored everyone around him. Growing up in the orphanage, as well as his _special abilities_ – which, it had turned out, were not all that special after all – had made him all too used to being isolated from others: and it suited him perfectly. He was not here to make friends. Hogwarts was a place of learning and his escape, sanctuary, from the dreadful orphanage. Tom would not allow any outsider to ruin it for him.

Two girls passed by him, chatting hyped together over something … trivial, and they once again vanished in the flock of students that had filled the hallway in between classes; a boy quickly caught up with another, giving off a friendly clap on the shoulder and they too disappeared. His eyes trailed over every little detail, the many portraits, moving about in their frames, on the walls; the armoured suits that creakingly moved from time to time; the classroom doors bursting open whenever a class ended to allow more witches and wizards to fill the area.

Tom felt suffocated in the narrow space he was given.

He did not understand why but his attention was constantly grabbed by her, by that arrogant and stuck-up pureblood. She was one of the last to have left class and he spotted her long, black hair in the crowd only a bit ahead of him; it was not that she was anything extraordinary when it came to looks, but the pureblood had a regal, stoic air about her which he, undeniable, sought himself. The witch had been born with everything so unlike him. It annoyed him beyond anything.

Something caught her attention and she turned her head sideways, an unreadable look spread across her face, yet not before Tom noted the flicker of a scowl. Then she changed direction; cutting past the other students, she stopped at the three older Slytherin students. They seemed to have been waiting for her. He pursed his lips slightly and quickly rushed by, off for his next class, as he told himself it was none of his business what she was doing.

His brow furrowed.

No. He did not care.

* * *

Elana was angry. No, angry was not the right word to describe how she was feeling. _Furious_ fit the situation better. Her blood boiled in her veins and, brushing off a strand of hair from her eyes madly, ignored the half-blood next to her. "Uhm, Elana …?" Newell inquired slowly, not quite sure how to approach the subject. "About what just happened–"

"I would appreciate it very much if you did not meddle in things that are none of your busines." The pureblood cut her off, her voice strained as she tried to retort politely even though she felt like snapping at the girl. But the icy cold anger pressed through, an underlying tone that made her voice come out even more terrifying.

"But it was–"

"She is right, Margaret. It is none of our business." Adriana said and sent a pointed look towards the other girl over the edge of her book, _Goshawk's Guide to Herbology_. The three girls were standing outside of the greenhouses, only a faint wind brushed against them as they were shielded by the glass walls. The pureblood wanted to skip classes and just walk until her annoyance had died out, rather than stand here with the two Slytherin girls who had, much to her displeasure, witnessed everything as they waited for her.

Elana felt the cool wind against her face, her pulse slowing as she tried to control her breath. She should learn how to keep her temperament under control – anything else was unbefitting for her, especially throwing a tantrum in public as she just did – but what had happened after Transfiguration had caught her off guard. She ran her tongue over her teeth before gritting them tightly … Annoying. So annoying.

The news of her clash with the teacher earlier on after Potions had already spread throughout the Slytherins, and of course the story had reached her brother's ears. News unfortunately travelled fast. Elana had known for what purpose he had sought her out, right away, as she had seen him, waiting for her in the hallway: Albert and Mathew had been there too, quietly listening as she had been questioned, two looming figures at her side. Like guards.

She understood perfectly why her brother had confronted her, but to have done so in public was just so _humiliating_.

He should have known that.

"_What could possible make you act like that? A _detention _the first day of school … It is an absolute disgrace." She kept her gaze fixed on the stone floor below her feet, biting her tongue in order to keep herself from responding. She could hear the mutters of people behind her; they were watching; she knew it. "Do you think I enjoy hearing whispers involving _our _name?"_

_Her ears burned slightly in embarrassment. She _hated_ when he corrected her; and the detention was not even earned. The professor had just given it to her because she was in Slytherin. She just _knew _it. Elana wanted to tell Elliot but not while he was talking, she could not cut him off; but it did not take a long time before he fell silent, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he awaited some sort of explanation._

_His dark blue eyes were locked with hers when she finally looked up. "It was not my fault." She started off, slowly, thinking every word through before speaking them out loud. "I was affronted by a boy from Gryffindor. I defended myself when he drew his wand; and then a professor – who had not even seen what had happened – gave me _and _another from Slytherin a detention; and he had nothing to do with it. It was completely unjustified. And not only that but she insulted me; I would not have stood it either if she had not been a professor."_

_His thoughtful, calculating eyes kept staring directly into hers and she did not blink. He was trying to see if she was lying, but in the end he broke the connection with a sigh. "Who was the teacher?" She shook her head lightly, indicating she did not know the elderly woman. If only she did … Her brother would have done something about it, but there she was, weak, and had taken her punishment without a way to fight back._

"_She was … somewhat old and tall. And she also seemed rather against Slytherins." She spoke hesitantly, trying to recollect the woman's face. "Her hair was in a bun if I remember correctly; she grabbed my arm quite violently." As she thought back her hand reached up to her upper arm, the quite painful memory resurfaced of having been pulled up like that._

"_Aurora Beery." Albert said with a grimace. "No doubt about it; no other teacher would possible dare lay a hand on a Slytherin, let alone a Fowl." Elana felt his eyes scan over her briefly, a scowl in place across his face; her brow furrowed slightly and she tried to remember if the professor's name had showed up on her schedule._

_It had._

Herbology.

It was an odd, scraping sound that made Elana snap out of her train of thought and she winched inwardly; all the gathered students from the Slytherin and Ravenclaw houses looked towards the greenhouse door as it opened. The same teacher, _Aurora Beery_, appeared in the opening and she scanned the crowd with an unreadable look; the pureblood felt how the female witch's eyes loomed on her for a split second longer than on everyone else. Elana felt like sneering.

Elana averted her eyes to the sky above, her heartbeat pounding in her chest. _Relax_, she told herself. Her brother would take care of it. "Why are you all just standing around, come on in? Quickly, now." She urged them all inside, standing at the side to give each and everyone of them a look-over. "Gather around the table so we can get started."

The insides of the large greenhouse was filled with a faint flowery yet mouldy smell, plants lining the glass walls and Elana felt her shoes crunch from the faint layer of dirt and fertilizer on the floor. She glanced sideways as movement caught her eye and, without really meaning to, took a step away from what she saw: a green vine was lazily sneaking over the table it was standing on, trying to reach out for the students as they passed by. It nearly caught hold of a Ravenclaw girl's sleeve, but she sidestepped it with a loud gasp.

The sun's rays were reflected through the somewhat dusty glass, heating up the insides of the greenhouse to bit uncomfortable heat: Elana felt her cheeks getting some colour from the sudden change of temperature as she took a spot next to the other Slytherins. Her eyes followed the professor as the latter walked down the side of the table, coming to a halt at the end. "Most of the faculty here starts off class with something easy just so you can get a hang of things … It will _not_ be like this in _my _classes."

After having said that it did not take long before they were all ushered to take on a pair of thick and heavy leather gloves. Margaret tried her best to hide her nervousness with a peculiar, fake laughter as she pulled on the gloves. "She is just trying to scare us." Elana glanced towards her from the corner of an eye. _Are you trying to reassure us … or just _yourself_? _She thought silently.

She felt the rough leather against her hands, bending her fingers lightly and felt the fabric tighten in response. The professor once again appeared in the greenhouse, a large pot levitating in front of her as she stopped in front of them all. With a loud thud, the pot came to a rest on the table. The plant inside looked ludicrous yet dangerous at the same time; Elana was not sure if she should laugh or prepare to fight it … But when the green plant suddenly moved and straightened up, as if waking from a deep slumber, she knew it was not exactly peaceful.

There was a reason the plant had yellowy spikes all over, that she was sure of. And not only for decorative purposes only. "That explains the gloves …" She muttered lowly, once again feeling the leather against her skin as she balled her hands into fists. This certainly looked to be a lot of _fun_.

"This is a Spiky Prickly Bush, rather obvious if I may say so." Professor Beery started off nonchalantly and with a hand motioned towards the plant, slapping away one of the branches as it moved towards her. She too was wearing a pair of gloves. "When dealing with this type of plant it is a good idea to keep it at a certain distance," she pointed a finger towards the large, yellow spikes. "When you enter its natural territory it will become hostile in order to defend itself, which makes them hard to get close to. But the leaves are used for quite a few potions and therefore make them rather valuable; we will learn how to immobilize them this time around and possibly in the next class, if you do not get the hang of it earlier."

In a fluent movement she had her wand drawn and pointed it towards the bush. Everyone leaned over the table in order to get a good view of what was going to happen next; everyone was eager to witness any use of magic. Elana could not resist the curiosity and glanced down the row of Slytherins. A greenish yellow light flashed with the sound of _"Diffindo!"_ and the plant's vines were cut in several pieces, just as it was about to throw a spike at the professor in self-defence.

"The Severing Charm is usually something taught in the second year, but it is very likely you will encounter things here where it is useful." Professor Beery stepped closer to the severed plant and examined it closer, collecting the branches and leaves into a small pile in her hand. "The Spiky Prickly Bush is rather resilient and can survive as long as the roots are left intact," she once again overlooked her students. "Everyone take a pot from the table and work on using _Diffindo_. Do not worry, the plants you will be handling are merely sprouts and can most likely not deal any real harm."

Elana, and probably others as well, latched onto the professor's choice of words.

_Any real harm …_

* * *

Tom stared, rather bored, at the small bush in front of him; it barely had any spikes and seemed rather vulnerable with a wand pointed at it. He sighed. Herbology barely spiked his interest as some of the other subjects did. "I do not think I can do this!" I girl exclaimed across the table and he glanced upwards, his eyes hidden under his black hair. "It looks so cute!"

The blonde haired Ravenclaw girl almost had tears in her eyes as she stared in pity at the plant. A couple of boys from her house saw it as their sign to play heroes and rushed to her aid, gently reassuring her it would be all right. But then a single word from his left caught his attention. It was barely loud enough to be heard yet his ears still picked it up. "_Unbelievable_ …"

Once again it was _her_. _Constantly_. In order to get rid of the annoyance, which had slowly crept up on him, he pointed his yew wand at the plant and muttered "_Diffindo._". The Spiky Prickly Bush was diminished even further than what it already was in a bright, green flash; a few gasps were heard from around him as he had been the first to perform the spell. He noticed how the professor had seen it, her lips pursed in dislike; she gave no praise but merely watched him from the end of the table, her mouth contracting into a thin line.

"Oho! Not bad!" Tom suddenly felt a hand against his back in what seemed to be a friendly clap. Not that he would know how that felt. He stiffened. Another Slytherin boy grinned broadly from his right. "I'm Avery by the way, Peter Avery." The wizard introduced, sliding into the spot next to Tom's and nodded in recognition at the severed and injured plant, as if admiring his work. "Poor thing, huh?"

"Tom Riddle." He merely answered, eyes flickering towards the hand still firmly placed on his shoulder. Tom suddenly found himself in a rather uncomfortable situation. Why was the blonde boy approaching him? He could not see through the wide grin that plastered the boy's face, nor did he quite understand what the other could possibly want from him – if anything at all. Something like this had never happened to him. Tom's brow furrowed. People usually avoided him.

"And that's Nott by the way," Avery nodded towards the second boy, watching them emotionless from behind Avery; he grunted and Tom took it as a greeting of some sort and responded with a short nod. "You're quite good with spells …" He trailed off as if carefully thinking his words through. The wizard ran his tongue across his lips before he spoke again: "_Riddle_, that's not a name I have heard of before I think?"

The black haired Slytherin did not answer.

Tom had been scrutinized throughout the rest of the class, where the other students had attempted to perform the spell as he had and he, with plenty of time on his hands, had tried to understand whatever plans Avery had for introducing himself. Why else would he approach him? _Friends_? It sounded highly unlikely.

"_You two_, come here for a minute." Class had ended; everyone was on their way out of the greenhouse again when the professor spoke up above the noisy. The first years glanced back towards her and she motioned for Tom and the girl from earlier; the whispers that followed were rather obvious, no one tried to hide their curiosity when the two cut their way past the tables.

The black haired girl reached the teacher first and stopped up, arms crossed across her chest and an unreadable look spread across her face. "_What_?" She asked impatiently, trying to pull her book bag further up her shoulder. He came to a halt next to her, also waiting to hear what the professor wanted – since it was only him and the pureblood, he had an idea what it might be about. _His_ unfair punishment. For her it was completely justified if anyone asked him his opinion.

"Both of you have detention tonight, so meet up outside the trophy room on the third floor. At six; and not one minute late! Understood?" Beery looked at them sharply while she pulled off the gloves. There was a taunting and gleeful spark deep down in her eyes. Tom was pretty sure she was enjoying herself at their expense.

The younger female next to him did _not _seem to share the same feelings. "Is that all?"


	3. Chapter III

And I rewrote this as well... and it's now... 7 in the morning so I'll wait a bit with the rest. If I decide to spell-check the other chapters. I probably will, it's a good way to remember stuff I've written previously. But yeah...

Enjoy and do review.

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter III

* * *

Elana was the last to arrive outside the Trophy Room as she had lost track of time in the school library. Her book bag felt heavy against her shoulder, having been packed with several books she could possibly use to pass time later on. "You're slow." The other three were already watching her from the locked door; the two Gryffindors stood at one side and looked at her with completely different emotions written across their faces. Isabella did not seem like she knew whether to smile or burst into tears, while the boy – whose name she still did not know – was merely glaring daggers towards her.

He clearly did not like her.

Her fellow Slytherin did not even look her way and Elana pursed her lips. Not sure why she felt annoyed by his behaviour she stepped closer and came to a halt in front of them. "You can not call me slow," her voice was low and composed. "It is not even six yet." He rolled his eyes at her, exasperated at her words.

"You really are something."

Well aware it was meant as an insult she smirked slightly. "Thank you." Elana did not even try to aggravate the Gryffindor boy – it was just so easy! – yet he approached with a step, his teeth bared in a grimace. She raises an eyebrow. "Can I help you with anything?"

"You get on my nerves, you know that?" He pointed a finger towards her and she could easily feel the hostility. Her eyebrow scooted up further as the only sign of her amusement. "What's with you playing all high and mighty? Just because you're a pureblood; what difference does that make? I'll tell you. _Nothing_. I am one, too, and I don't walk around thinking I own the place. We are just like everyone else."

Elana did not respond. There was no need to. "That is enough, Potter." They all turned to look at the Professor who had finally decided to arrive for their detention. It was past six. Beery drew her wand from inside her black robes; the boy took a step back, scared she was about to jinx him while Elana merely watched. As if a professor would hex their own students, even if it was someone like Beery. With a quick, fluent movement with the long wand the door behind them creaked and opened, the lock gone. "Go in," she told them.

The four first years entered the large room one by one; all walls were lined with shelves of trophies in silver and gold; a large chandelier hung from the ceiling and its light made created small, flickering sparkles from below the cover of dust. Elana glanced over the many awards but turned to face the professor as the latter cleared her throat. "You have to polish all of these," Beery stated, her trademark smirk in place. "_Without _magic."

Elana crossed her arms across her chest and once again looked over the many trophies, cups, statuettes and several other awards for different awards and services for the school. A thin layer of dust covered most of them, the surfaces smeared by the hand of time, and what seemed to be a long, hard night's work lay ahead of the four. "You can't be serious? There are at least a hundred!" Potter complained from her left, motioning towards the shelves with a disgruntled expression crossing his features. "It will take the entire night!"

"Then you can learn not to fight in public again." Beery responded, discarding the wizard's response of _"Then it'd be all right to fight with no one around?"_ and walked towards the door. "I will check up on your work tomorrow, you can first leave when you are done … and if it is not done properly be sure I will punish you all _severely_. Understood?"

They all stared at the professor.

Elana rolled her eyes.

And so the night had begun.

_This is ridiculous. _Elana glared at the polishing cloth in her hands, somehow expecting for it to evaporate under her stare. Of course it did not, and with a low sigh she opened the first of the glass doors and grabbed a small, gold cup. No one around her spoke even a word to each other and she, with slow, careful movements, rubbed the name plate of one _Mirabella Plunkett_. Slowly twirling the cup between two of her fingers, she checked for any spots she might have overlooked. It appeared to now be spotless.

"Uhm ... Elana," the pureblood witch tensed and paused her monotone circling motions against a silver plate, lowering her work slightly. Elana made sure to turn her face away from the other girl, using her black hair to shield her eyes that had turned dark. The Gryffindor girl did not take the hint but came closer; trying to ignore the other, Elana finished off the plate and put it back on its velvet pillow. If only she would go away. "Please talk to me."

"What do you want?" She asked in the end, inwardly flinching as she heard her own harsh, venomous voice. Her eyes were focused hard on her own reflection in the glass in front of her, the matching orbs staring back with a hollow look. "I thought I already made it clear … I do not want to be near you." A silence fell over the two girls and the Slytherin kept her eyes fixated on the glass cabinet; she noticed in the back of her head how she was clutching the cloth between her hands, digging her nails through the soft fabric into her own palms. Elana had somewhat expected the other girl would try and talk to her again, but she did not expect to feel as bad as she did.

The silence broke. "I know that but … You're still my friend even if you behave the way you do!" Elana glanced sideways if the boys were listening in on the conversation. They were not. She bit down in her lower lip, bobbed her head towards the corner furthest away from the other two and walked off. She did not have to look back to know the witch was following her; she could hear hesitant footsteps close behind, as if the girl expected her to blow up in her face at any time.

She suddenly came to a halt as far away from the other two as she could get, apparently having surprised the other girl as they nearly bumped together. Elana turned around and made them come face to face. She filled her lungs with air in one quick inhale and then blurted out: "I am sorry."

Isabella's eyes widened as she had clearly not expected _that_. "E–excuse me?"

Elana heaved a sigh and slightly leaned against the wall, never taking her eyes off the other girl. This was probably the hardest thing to explain. "I am sorry. For everything; for treating you like I did but there was nothing else I could do." She ran her free hand through her black hair as she tried to find the right words. Nothing came up. Apologizing was never anything the pureblood had learned; her parents had always taught her, being a Fowl, that she was always right. "I am sure you understand now … the differences between our houses."

"Well," Isabella muttered slowly, her hand fumbling with the Gryffindor emblem on her school uniform and Elana could not help but glance towards her own crest. "I know there is hostility, between Gryffindor and Slytherin especially. Or rather … between Slytherin and all the other houses; but I do not understand _why_. I can't see why we won't get along."

She felt like laughing at the girl's words. Nothing was that simple. "It is the differences of our blood." Elana explained. It was all just stupid … People could not be together because they were _born _into certain families. "I am of a pureblood family; and they are … _picky_ when it comes to who I socialize with. That is why I can not be seen with you–"

"Because I'm a _Muggle-born_? Because my parents aren't like yours?" Isabella interrupted and Elana flinched at the accusing tone in the brown haired girl's voice, strained as she tried to hold her feelings at bay. Tears swelled up in her eyes and she blinked furiously. No, she would not cry over something like this. "You will not be my friend because my parents aren't like _yours_? That is ridiculous!"

"Yes," the Slytherin answered without blinking, her voice drained. "It is, but it is not that I do not want to be your friend. I just _cannot. _If I go against my family I will get disowned and removed from the family tree; I just cannot live with that … my name is all I have. If I lose that I have nowhere to go." Her head started hurting, her fists were clenched at her sides and she looked down to the floor. There was nothing she could do, even though her family was like it was she still loved them; if she lost them what would she do? She did not like talking about it, did not wish to share her feelings with anyone but she had to. There was no other way Isabella would understand her behaviour. And she did not wish to hurt her friend, at least not without her knowing the reason _why_. "I tried to make you hate me, every time you approached rumours would spread and … my brother would not only punish me but you, too."

"Elana …" The Slytherin froze as she felt a hand on her shoulder; biting down into her lower lip she tried to suppress her emotions. She would not cry. She could not. It was not proper. "Let them hate me … You are my friend. My _first _friend who did not see me as a freak. No matter what I won't give you up even if I am shunned by my own house. Even if I am hated by everyone else then so be it. And if your family treats you like they do … you shouldn't let them."

Elana snorted. Nothing was that simple.

Nothing …

* * *

Tom glanced sideways towards the two girls. He silently reprimanded himself that he did not care, but why did he keep looking in their direction? With a low sigh he kept polishing the trophy between his hands, thoughtfully pondering the situation at hand. The first conclusion he had come to was that it just did not make sense; and that annoyed him. No matter how he looked at it he should _not _be in detention that night.

They were keeping a distance now as if nothing had happened. The Slytherin boy had not been able to hear what was going on, but when the two girls had parted once more they had made sure to keep a few yards from each other, their gazes turned towards everything else but the other girl. The air had turned even more strained than previously. With a low _thud_ the glass door to the cabinet was closed and the black haired boy looked over all the work; it had not been hard, he was used to manual work such as this from the orphanage, but he expected _others_ to find it exhausting.

At least that thought cheered him up a bit.

A grim look crossed his pale face at the thought of his old _home_. He had promised himself it would all be different at Hogwarts and that he would never go back to living a life as he had in Wool's Orphanage. He would change it all. "_Done!_" The voice pulled him away from his thoughts and he turned to the Gryffindor boy who, rather triumphant, held a golden plate towards the chandelier. "Last one!"

And true enough, as Tom looked around the room, none of the others were in the middle of work. They all stared at the boy as he placed the plate behind the glass with a smug grin; silence filled the room once more as they all kept staring. No one moved. It was as if none of them knew what to do now; it seemed like they were waiting for an authority to tell them what would happen next. But not for long. "About time." It was Tom's fellow Slytherin that was the first to break the silence with a taunting remark.

"What was that?" The other snapped; easily picking up on the tone of her voice and turned to face her. "Are you starting again? Because I am _not_ in the mood." Not wishing to waste his time on the two bickering, Tom headed towards the door and passed the black haired girl; he felt her eyes flicker to him shortly before her attention was turned towards Potter once more.

"I am not. It was merely a statement that it was _about time_ we were done." Her eyebrow scooted up slightly. "And if I need to explain it so you can understand … It is quite a while since curfew started." By her words Tom's eyes were drawn towards the windows, noticing how the sky had turned almost black. Stars could be seen slightly through the cover of clouds. She was right.

He opened the sturdy door and stepped out in the hallway, leaving the three behind in the Trophy room as it closed once more. Everything was quiet and the torches had been put out a while ago; Tom muttered a spell under his breath and his wand flickered on, a cold blue light appeared at its tip. With that he started moving towards the Slytherin dormitories. His low, careful footsteps echoed against the walls; he warily scanned the portraits every time one of the inhabitants stirred in their sleep. He did not need any more trouble by being caught outside of curfew.

A noise behind him made him come to a stop; with his wand raised, he illuminated the hallway and stared into the darkness. At first he could not make out the figure but it did not take long before he recognized the girl; her wand was, as his own, faintly glowing by her side as she looked him up and down. "Thought we could go together," she kept her voice down but did not seem to mind the situation much.

He did not respond but started moving down the hallway once again; her footsteps followed with a safe distance between the two. None of them spoke. When they reached the Grand Staircase, he stopped once more and overlooked the shifting stairs: the castle had far too many corridors and hallways for him to remember yet, though he would not admit it. As the staircases shifted once more he remember the way and took a step out, but all of a sudden he felt a hand grab a hold of his upper arm.

The girl looked wary as they locked eyes. "What are–?" She pressed a finger against her lips and urgently pulled at him; not understanding this strange behaviour the pureblood was suddenly displaying in front of him, he slowly followed her. They turned back into the hallway from where they came, her wand outstretched in front of her as she came to a halt in front of a door. "Let go," Tom wrestled his arm from her grip, not at all happy with her dragging him around.

Her brow furrowed and took him by surprise as she glared, once more grabbing on to him while opening the door. Before Tom saw what happened next, he found himself inside a broom closet; Fowl glanced out into the hallway one last time before silently closing the door. _"Colloportus."_ She whispered and pressed her ear against the wood, listening to what was happening on the other side.

"Would you mind explaining what you–"

"Shut up," she hissed and furiously waved a hand in his direction. "Unless you want us to be caught." Tom's eyebrow scooted up at her words and manners, silently pondering her odd behaviour. He slowly came to the conclusion she had seen a patrol on the stairs and acted thereafter; he lowered the light from his wand and kept his eyes on her. After what seemed like an eternity she pulled away and slid down the door, sitting down on the floor. She looked at him with a somewhat tired look. "We will have to wait for a while … I think he saw us."

She fell silent and merely watched him from the floor.

He returned her look pointedly.


	4. Chapter IV

**Reviews** are appreciated! Please enjoy the story.

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter IV

* * *

Elana tried her utmost hardest to keep her eyes from shutting close; her head leaned back against the wooden door and her neck felt oddly stiff from the uncomfortable position. Muffling a threatening yawn with a hand, she secretly glanced towards the other Slytherin; an awkward and embarrassing silence had settled over the two, trapped in the dark closet. Well, it was at least embarrassing for _her_. After she felt certain the patrol – which was believed to be the old, creepy-looking caretaker – had long gone past their hideout in his search for students out past curfew, she had tried to magically unlock the door once more.

Only a minor, insignificant detail kept the pureblood from doing so. She had forgotten what charm to use; and so she had found herself feeling rather dumb as she stared at the door, wand in hand. The boy had not even commented on it, but merely watched her from the bucket he was sitting on with an eyebrow raised in mild interest – and _that_ was getting on her nerves even more than if he had laughed or mocked her. "So … _Riddle_ is a peculiar name." She started off just to break the tense silence. "I wonder where it is from."

Elana was not sure whether it was a question or just a thought aired out in the open. But the boy opposite her did not respond; in stead it seemed like he had fallen into deep thoughts and, eyes clouded over, stared down onto the dusty floor. The Fowl girl shifted slightly, eyes still fixated upon him. Tom Riddle certainly was a _riddle_. No matter what, she could not figure him out. It was easy to read the behaviour of the first years she had made acquaintances with, except for him; the boy in front of her barely showed any emotions. If _any _at all, really.

"What is it to you?"

The words suddenly spoken made her snap out of her train of thought; her head snapped up and their eyes locked. There was a faint tinge of hostility deep down in the dark, almost back, orbs. Quickly hiding her curiosity and surprise, she put her face back into an unreadable mask that most likely matched his own to perfection, and then answered: "I was interested, that is all." Interested was an understatement but she did not wish to come off prying. "I take it you got it after your father?"

Silence fell over the two once more. Elana's brow furrowed slightly as she awaited an answer: it never came. With a low sigh she turned her face away and stared at the dark ceiling, only slightly illuminated by their two wands. A spider dangled from a cobweb in the corner, lazily waiting for a victim. There had to be some way for her to get information out of him. Elana once again felt her eyes slowly close and she forced them to open, irritating shaking her head in the process; she had lost all sense of time, having no idea if hours had passed or only minutes.

"I take it you are … Well, you are not a pureblood with _that_ name. And I highly doubt you are a Mudblood – the Sorting Hat would not have thrown you into Slytherin then. So, by ruling out the rest … you are a half-blood." She pondered her thoughts out loud, hoping the new approach would make him reveal something. On purpose or not she did not care. "That has to be hard when in Slytherin."

Tom only listened half-heartedly to what the girl was saying, too busy with his own thoughts. Why was she asking all those questions? "I noticed Avery spoke to you in Herbology," Elana continued. "If you want my advice you should befriend him …" The black haired boy did not have the slightest intentions of making friends with the other Slytherin; he had no use for friends. They were a waste of time. They would expect things of him in return …

"And if _you_ want _my _advice you should not befriend that Gryffindor girl." He retorted and wished she would just leave him alone. The only thing he wanted was the door to open so he could get away from her; if anything was a waste of time, it would be _this_. He could feel her blue eyes lingering on him until she turned her face away. She clicked her tongue.

"Touché." She muttered.

The much awaited silence once again fell over the two and Tom made use of the situation to think things through. There had to be a meaning behind her _advice_, there had to be a reason why he continued to get involved with her; he glanced up to her as discrete as possible and took in her features. Long, black bangs of hair fell into her face, as she rested her head in an arm; her eyes were a deep blue and unreadable; and she looked about the same as all the other girls in his eyes. Plain. But at the same time she was nothing like the others her age. _Perhaps_ … Perhaps he could use her to his advantage. Tom was well aware of the power she had on the students and maybe even the professors: She was part of an influential pureblood family and that had its benefits.

After finally having come to a conclusion he opened his mouth, but before he could speak she cut him off: Fowl had suddenly come to her feet once more, wand drawn in a fluent movement and she pointed it towards the door. "How could I forget … _Alohomora_!" With a click they heard the lock turn inside the door, and the witch carefully opened it to peer outside; Tom watched as she glanced around and slowly got up from the bucket. "It seems fine."

It was still completely dark in the corridor when they got out of the closet. The portrayed witches and wizards slumbered in their frames, the snores and grunts echoing between the walls – a witch even spoke in her sleep _"–vampires … where be my garlic?"_; with his wand raised he made his way back towards the shifting stairs and their common room. Their footsteps resonated in the empty castle hallways when they finally reached the chilly dungeons. They had soon after given the correct password, watching the bricks in the wall shift with a faint rumble, and were allowed entrance to the Slytherin common room.

The flames were dull in the fireplace and the large room was almost as dark as the corridors outside, faintly lit up by silver and green glowing lanterns hanging from the high ceiling; Tom manoeuvred around the black leather couches, listening if the witch was still behind him. "Well," her voice was barely a whisper as she spoke. "Good night then." They split at two small corridors leading downwards in different directions, one towards the girls' dormitories and the other to the boys'.

He did not manage to respond before her black hair had become one with the darkness. Tom turned on his heel and walked through the arched entrance to the dormitories, head filled with questions that needed answers. And preferably rather _soon_.

* * *

When Tom woke up the next morning it was after only a few hours of restless sleep. He had spent the remainder of the night trying to come up with a plan; how he could possibly manipulate the Slytherin girl. She was not stupid, that he was well aware of. The other four boys in the first year dormitory were still soundly asleep, and he saw light brown hair stick up from the under the covers in the bed across from his own; he pulled the emerald green covers aside and his feet touched the cold floor below his bed. His toes curled at the touch.

Even though it was only September, the temperature in the dungeons had turned chilly already. It did not take long before Tom had changed into the Hogwarts school uniform, pulling on the grey blazer to keep warm as he left the room, careful not to wake the others. As he approached the common room he could hear several voices; it seemed people were already up, but the black haired boy marched right past all of them out into the dungeons outside.

But as he headed up towards the Great Hall for breakfast, a yell caught his attention and he looked back over his shoulder at the two Slytherin boys approaching. Avery and Nott. He had made sure to remember their names, especially after the advice he had gotten in the closet during the night. Even though he did not admit it, she did have a point.

"Riddle." Tom eyed them slightly and gave a curt nod as greeting, once again walking towards the Great Hall. They fell into pace with him and even took a seat at the Slytherin table next to Tom. "I am curious as to how detention went last night." The blonde haired pureblood leaned a little towards the other at the table, a grin from one ear to another in his eagerness. "With _Fowl_ and all."

Tom did not answer.

He did not have to.

"I would not exactly say that is any of your business, Mr. Avery." It took all of Tom's willpower not to smirk at the voice. The other boy's facial expression went from gleeful to pale as he turned to face the black haired girl; but she had already directed her attention to elsewhere as she took a seat at the Slytherin table. "… Good morning." Then she politely looked back at the three boys, waving her wand at a teapot, and soon after the nearest cup was filled with boiling water. She then proceeded to flip through the assortment of teabags from a small, wooden box, while deciding on the day's flavour.

"Oh, but I was just worried." Avery had quickly regained his posture, this time leaning towards her. Her eyebrow was raised. "To have detention with _Gryffindors_, must have been horrible for you … such an experience." Tom silently listened to their conversation, pleased the attention had been directed to someone else rather than him. His eyes shifted towards the third Slytherin pureblood, who had still not spoken once. Their eyes met but no words or gestures were exchanged and Tom somewhat liked the boy.

_Like_ was of course a strong word. "Well," she took a sip of her tea, slowly and carefully weighing her words. "There were no real troubles as I luckily had Mr. Riddle with me. They did not dare anything with him there … Not with _his_ family background." Elana let out a chuckle and placed the cup back on the table once more. Tom's eyes flickered towards the girl at her words. What was she doing?

"Is that so?" Avery seemed just as surprised, slowly deciphering her words. "And I who had never heard of the name _Riddle _before, but that may just have been me then?"

"Indeed, it is only you, Mr. Avery. The Fowl family has quite a close relationship with them but … Unfortunately I will not share such information with you as it is now – that would be gossiping. One thing I can say to you though, is that you might not want to cross blades with Mr. Riddle." A polite smile was kept on her face even though she was lying through her teeth; the pureblood finished off her drink, the porcelain cop clacked against the saucer, and she came to her feet once more. "Now if you will have me excused, I have some things I need to take care of."

As she walked past Tom on her way to the entrance, their eyes met. He was speechless. Tom had no clue as to what had just happened, but there was one thing he did understand: she had helped him. She had made up a lie about their two families and given him a new blood status – and by doing so, she had rid him of all their inquiring questions. He gritted his teeth slightly, an uneasy feeling creeping up on him as he felt he sort of _owed her_.

A nervous laughter broke the silence the pureblood girl had left behind. "Well, err– I guess it is only me who had not heard of your family, my deepest apologies." Avery spoke up once more, this time an unreadable look spread across his features as he was somewhat confused about what had just happened. "So you are actually close to Fowl?"

He resisted a sigh. They still asked questions.

* * *

Elana was rather pleased with herself as she stepped out into the Entrance Hall. She came to a halt in the middle of the tile floor and looked up the Marble Staircase, slowly thinking her actions through – because, admittedly, she had not done that earlier. She was well aware of the fact she had lied; but it was a small, insignificant and white lie that would bring no harm. Making her way past a couple of Ravenclaw girls she walked up the staircase towards the Transfiguration classroom; her book bag felt heavy against her shoulder and she pulled it up further, attempting to lessen the strain in her muscles. She climbed the many flights of stairs in order to get to the third floor.

When she finally came to a halt in front of the classroom, she leaned slightly against the wall so she had a look over both ends of the corridor and the door into Transfiguration. Elana did not wish to be suddenly interrupted in her thoughts. She had made Avery believe that the Riddles were a powerful family within the wizarding world, even though they were not; it was not normal for her to do things that would benefit others, but she was certain it would also be an advantage for her in the future.

She knew Tom Riddle was a special case; he was nothing like other half-bloods she had encountered during her eleven years – and she had met _many_ – and he seemed to be somewhat of a prodigy, both when it came to potions and spells. If her intuition was right then he would become a rather powerful wizard in the future, and they would hopefully be on good terms at that time: by helping him gain a better blood status he would be indebted to her and sooner or later she could ask for a _favour_ in return. Elana's brow furrowed. She almost sounded like Slughorn …

Her blue eyes scanned the corridor at the sound of footsteps and voices: the other students slow arrived for the first class that morning, and she quite quickly located the familiar Slytherin boys. Her gaze locked for a split second with Riddle but she turned her face away shortly after; a small smirk irked at the corner of her mouth as she was somewhat expecting for him to seek her out.

He did not. Suppressing a scowl she in stead smiled courteously at the newly arrived girls. Newell and Greengrass both seemed like they wished to ask her something, and it was the half-blood that in the end broke the silence between the three girls. "Where were you last night?"

Elana raised an eyebrow. "Detention, possibly?"

"The _entire _night?" Newell inquired further, curiosity written across her face. The black haired pureblood started to dislike the other girl more and more; it was obvious that she was only after information to gossip about to the other Slytherins. Elana would not give her the opportunity. Especially since the news could reach her brother's ears and that would escalate _any _problem to new heights. With an innocent smile she answered the question.

"If I am not mistaken I was back into the dormitory a little past midnight. And yes, if you _absolutely _must know, it did take quite a while to polish _everything_ in the Trophy Room. By hand, mind you." Her voice was rather harsh as she spoke and quickly brushed past the two girls, just as the elderly professor had opened the door into Transfiguration.

Professor Dumbledore overlooked all the students, his fingers twirling his beard almost playfully about, as they filed into the classroom. "Good morning everyone, please be seated so we can begin class!" Elana once again took a seat in the back of the room, not feeling too certain about the white bearded man. It was first of all since he seemed to look straight through her; as if he was reading her mind. He made her feel uncomfortable. Especially with those eyes … She felt goose bumps trail her arms. "We shall try not to create as much chaos today as we did yesterday, agreed?"

She pulled out a chair and placed her bag on the table, rustling through it to find her _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ and finally pulled out the sturdy book. Elana turned her attention towards the front of the class, except her eyes were scurrying towards the boy who had suddenly taken a seat next to her. She smirked inwardly, quickly brushing her hair to hide her face from the other Slytherin. _As expected_.

A bit late, yet expected.

Tom knew he had to get it over with. Even if he preferred to stay clear of the witch altogether, he had to talk to her. He shuffled past the Ravenclaw and Slytherin students to get a snail from the box near the front; their assignment for the day was to turn the small slug into a teapot. The small, slimy creature tried to escape across his table and he watched it absentminded, while pondering his words cautiously. "You should be careful … It is making a run for it." Fowl commented from the sideline, pointing her own wand towards the snail. Indeed it was. Tom picked it up and then placed it further into the table, where it once more steered straight for the edge, leaving a trail of slime in its wake.

He looked at her. She was holding her own snail between two fingers on the dark brown shell, obviously making sure to not touch it too much; the girl raised an eyebrow as their eyes met. "Why did you do it?" Tom asked, his carefully planned speech forgotten and he just blurted out the question. She scratched her cheek with the wand and shrugged.

With a finger on the snail, now on the table, to keep it in check, she spoke up. "I felt like it." He gave her a pointed look, a feeling she was once again telling lies. Tom did not believe her. The witch could feel his stare and turned her face towards him once more, both snails forgotten. "And," Tom could not quite make out the emotions written on her face as their eyes were locked; it was a mystery, but he would solve it. Then she suddenly smiled, putting up a façade to keep him from reading her completely. "I am sure it can be of use to me later."

Anger surged through him. He _knew_ it. The pureblood girl was ruining his plan; he wanted to manipulate her but here she was, doing the _exact_ same thing to _him_. She did not even try to hide it. "And I could just tell them about your lies." He threatened, well aware that it would not work.

"Oh yes, I would be a liar indeed, but I highly doubt they would dare to act upon it. _You_ on the other hand would be in a far worse situation, being a _half-blood_ and all." He silently agreed with her, but even if she was right he would not back down. She would not be able to match him.

But as he was about to retort a tall shadow fell over the two first years; looking up they saw the professor observe their work. "Well done! You both created invisible teapots?" There was a hint of amusement in Dumbledore's voice as both Tom and Elana gaped at the table, both snails nowhere in sight. "It was the last snails, so I suggest you track them down before they are completely gone. Or I will have no choice but to give no credit for your work."

With a sneer Tom left the pureblood girl for later and bowed down to the floor. The professor had interrupted them on purpose, there was no doubt that the old man had overheard their conversation and interfered. A couple of girls giggled as he passed them, but he tried to ignore the embarrassment of having to crawl around on the floor; he did not care what they thought. But as he decided to ignore their mocking, the other chose the exact opposite.

"Did you just _laugh_ at me?" A silence fell over the Slytherin girls as they had clearly not seen _her_ on the floor. But Tom did not bother to pay attention to the discussion: he had finally located the fleeing snail near one of the windows as it was crawling up the wall – it was incredibly fast for a snail, actually. By a quick jab of the wand the snail was transformed into a small, green teapot; Tom walked down towards his own table once more, his assignment in hand.

With a _squishing _and quite satisfying sound, he crushed the second snail under his shoe. It was an odd, crunching feeling. He had spotted the small creature close to his chair and had _accidently_ placed his foot on top of it, before he could stop himself. The poor, _poor_ thing.

Fowl, still staring daggers at the girls, had been calmed down by a still amused professor and she returned to the table, cheeks flushed with anger. Her eyes flickered to the remains of her snail close to Tom and her mouth contracted into annoyance; she glared at him. The black haired boy returned her stare with a polite smile. _Revenge. _"You did not."

Yes. Yes, he did.


	5. Chapter V

Reviews are as usual most welcome and do enjoy!

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter V

* * *

The next couple of weeks were rather uneventful for Tom Riddle, at least compared to the first days in the new school, and passed by in a blur. He had gotten used to the corridors and stairs – almost all hundred and forty-two of them – as well as the packed first year schedule and the Professors; the black haired boy had understood how to wrap the teachers around his little finger. Of course with the exception of the Herbology Professor, who seemed to hold a grudge against the Slytherins, and Dumbledore.

With the help of a polite smile and by excelling in every subject the teachers were quite taken with the young Slytherin – compared to other boys in his year, he was a well-mannered and bright wizard. But then there was the elderly, bearded Transfiguration professor; Tom did not understand Dumbledore and knew the professor did not trust his façade, almost as if he saw right through it. But he would not let a single professor get in his way. If only _that_ was his only problem, of course. After the snail incident the pureblood girl had kept a distance to him and he had done the same to her; Tom could feel her thoughtful eyes lingering on him in classes, but she had always turned away when he looked up.

But even though she did not seem to approach him anymore, she was still getting in his way. There was a constant competition going on between the two first years in classes, always trying to see who could finish work first. And today was another of those days. "Well done, Mr. Riddle!" Slughorn exclaimed, nose halfway down the cauldron as he sniffed the green, bubbling liquid with much delight – which, in fact, was a bit disturbing to watch. Tom's eyes flickered towards the black haired girl, who was glancing towards them with an unreadable expression, and he suppressed a smug smirk.

"I did my best Professor."

* * *

Elana was tired of losing to Riddle, but she had her revenge just as often as she lost in classes and it was not like she had given up on him. Though she was well aware of the hostility he felt towards her and she would not push her limits. _Yet_. Manoeuvring her way past the green and silver clad students, she felt the cold autumn wind blow against her face as it whipped up her hair: hustling and bustling noises, roaring in anticipation, were heard all around her as everyone made their way down to the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch.

The first game of the year had arrived and a heavy tension hung in the air, the two biggest rivals about to clash. _Slytherin_ versus _Gryffindor_. She felt herself slowly getting caught up in the mood of the crowd, heart pounding fast; Elana found a seat at the front of one of the stands, feeling the others from her house push against her from all sides, and she looked down to the ground, several feet below. There had been an odd mood throughout the two houses over the past couple of days as the match had approached.

A pair of sixth years had been sent to the Hospital Wing after jinxing each other in History of Magic, while The Fat Lady had magically gained a big, bushy moustache – resulting in her fleeing her portrait and locking out several Gryffindors; and that were only _some _of the incidents. Even the first years had gained a sense of loyalty towards their respective houses and the day before the Quidditch match, in a rather dull Potion class, Avery threw himself at a Gryffindor student. Muggle style, much to everyone's surprise. And entertainment.

Loud cheers and booing swept across the pitch, competing for dominance against the wind, while the two teams flew in and started circling the outer ring. "_Slytherin! Slytherin! Slytherin!_" Elana's head followed the green clad players as they passed by, her eyes trying to make out her older brother. Her ears were ringing from the deafening shouts from her fellow Slytherins, some throwing insults towards the opposing team while others yelled encouraging at their own.

She finally located her brother, clad in the green and silver Quidditch robes, at the Slytherin goal posts, not too far away from her; Elana could make out his captain badge as he spoke to the Keeper, the latter a bulky, muscular – and scary looking – seventh year, who could probably intimidate the Quaffle into the opposite direction with one look. A booming voice cut through the noises as the commentator presented the match; but Elana's attention had been caught by something completely different. Dark eyes were locked with her own. Tom Riddle had decided to take a spot next to her. One of her eyebrows scooted up slightly as she curiously examined him; first then he seemed to have noticed the person next to him. By a disapproving click of his tongue, he turned his face away from her once more and she felt a slight bit annoyed.

She sent him a final pointed look but, crossing her arms across her chest and with a _hmph!_, turned her gaze back onto the match. A whistle blew shrilly and pierced through the blowing winds. The Quaffle was thrown up in the air by the umpire, but was quickly after captured by a Slytherin Chaser, elbowing the opponent. The game had begun.

"_And Rosier is off!_" The commentator bellowed across the field, his voice magically amplified. "_He passes to Brown – Fowl – back to Brown!_ _And oh–! Bludger, that got to hurt! And Gryffindor picks it up! They're heading for the goal posts! And– Goal!" _Collective groans spread across the Slytherin stands while the other three quarters of the school cheered loudly; the red leather ball went past the keeper and through one of the hoops. "_Gryffindor scores! 10-0!_"

"Play properly, Blishwick! Pull your act together!" Elana flinched as a seventh year shouted her in the ear to the Keeper, clearly not satisfied with the play – even though it was only the first point lost. She counted silently in her mind to not lose her calm, eyes glued to the Chasers as they made another attempt on the goal posts. And this time they made it. They all cheered when Brown, another seventh year flew a victory round.

"_And this is why Fowl was made captain this year, excellent play. 10 points to Slytherin!_" Elana's lips tugged slightly, feeling proud of her brother. "_Gryffindor is off again towards the goal– But here comes another Bludger! That has _got_ to hurt!_" The pureblood girl smirked inwardly at Gamp: he certainly was suited for the position as Beater, not too fussed with possibly – seriously – injuring others. _"Slytherin picks up! Rosier – Fowl – Rosier again! Bludger! Revenge served by the Gryffindor Beaters – nice one Potter!"_

* * *

Tom watched the game, uninterested following the red leather-covered ball as it was shot back and forth between broomsticks, not really finding it all too interesting and he leaned back in his seat; Slytherins pressed on from all sides in their eagerness for victory. The Quaffle was sent back and forth between the two teams, scoring points after another and making the crowd's tension even worse than what it already was. "_What's this–? Is it? I think Jones is on to something! I think– it's the Snitch!_"

It felt like everyone around him held their breath as the Gryffindor Seeker had suddenly sped up on his broom, an arm stretched out in front of him, and a determined look spread across his face. People got up from their seats as, out of nowhere, another player had entered the fight for the small, golden ball; the two Seekers were neck and neck, pressing against the other to push them away, flying inches from the stands in pursuit of the Snitch. The rest of the match had stilled, all eyes on the Seekers, spiralling heedlessly downwards.

A bundle of black hair got in the way of his view; his eyes flickered to the Fowl as the girl leaned over the edge to look at the two, flying barely above the ground. Then they suddenly braked, soaring upwards into the sky and vanished in the light of the chilling sun; he watched her reaction as she seemed fixated upon the Slytherin Seeker. A smirk spread across his lips. "Interesting_ … Very _interesting." His words were drowned out by the roar of the crowd. They appeared once more.

"_And– Selwyn and Jones are neck and neck! It's impossible to tell who will get it!_" The rest of the game had seemed to come to a complete halt, the other players watching the chase in anticipation; even the Bludgers were lazily flying about with no real purpose … "_This is a close one! But look at that! Jones took an elbow– Selwyn is taking a lead, is it the end? And it is! Selwyn caught the Snitch!_"

The roars of victory were deafening as the fifth year Slytherin closed his fingers around the Golden Snitch. "_Slytherin _wins_!_" But it all suddenly became quiet. The cheers were drowned out by complete silence. The shock rushed like cold water over the crowd; Selwyn fell several feet to the ground and rolled away from the broom like a ragdoll until he finally became still, the Bludger soaring away once more after having finished its job. A whistle blew to indicate the end of the game, but no one was celebrating. The Slytherin captain landed on the grass near the injured seeker, the rest of the team followed suit shortly after and the clustered around the wizard.

Tom felt someone brush past him. He glanced after the girl as she pushed her way through the spectators with an unreadable look spread across her face. With a final look towards her, he gazed back onto the Slytherin team as they gathered around their team player; he had never really come across such emotions but he had a feeling Fowl had reacted quite _peculiar_.

He could use that.

* * *

Elana paused in the Entrance Hall, her chest heaving up and down as she had almost run back to the castle. She felt sick and nauseous, the images of Selwyn dropping to the ground flashed through her mind over and over. "Pull yourself together …" She scolded, rubbing the space between her eyebrows slowly as she tried to focus her attention elsewhere. The pureblood girl could not understand why she was acting like that; he probably was not even hurt much. A few bruises. Perhaps a broken bone or two. But it was nothing magic could not fix in no time. A potion or the flick of a wand and he would be perfectly fine.

But when she had seen it her heart had almost stopped beating. And then everything suddenly got worse as she comprehended what she felt; her face paled drastically and rushed towards the Slytherin common room. Elana had to get away before everyone else arrived. She had to sort things out, get it under control. The worried feeling in the pit of her stomach was just because he was a friend. Of her _brother's_, not even hers.

"No, no, no." Her frantic voice tried to reprimand her, make her believe it was not true. "You are not _crushing_ on him, Elana. No." She quickly gave the correct password, swept across the floor of the cold and green room towards her dormitory and down the staircase, while constantly thinking up reasons. Reasons for why it was _not_ happening. The madras complained lowly as she dumped herself down upon it, falling back onto her back and then she stared up onto the ceiling.

Selwyn was far too old. Well, with four years at least ... Which was nothing compared to the age gap between her own parents. But she was not even supposed to feel like she did! She was _eleven_. What would a _child_ like her know anyways? How could she know it was _love_ that she felt? "I would have reacted the same way if it was brother …" Yes. That was it. He was just like a second brother and of course she got concerned, it was the right thing to do.

_Love_ was a useless emotion she was better off without.

A sigh of relief left her and she felt her heartbeat slowly calm, the rhythm once again normal in her chest. That was right. It had just been an overreaction from her side off; due to the accident her mind had become jumbled, confused – she had mistaken the worry for something more. The ceiling above her was dark even though it was probably not past midday yet; but the only light that illuminated the dormitory were a few lanterns and the crackling flames in the fireplace. Elana closed her eyes thoughtfully.

No matter what, she did not even have time for love problems – love was a privilege not granted those of her status. If anything, she had to take care of Riddle before he was going out of control: the young boy was already gaining the professors' favour. There had to be put an end to it.

The question was how. The thick, oak door was suddenly pushed open. A figure arrived in the room and disrupted the pureblood's thoughts. "Elana, there you are! You just left all of a sudden." Suppressing a groan, she forced her eyes open to look at the girl in front of her. Newell loomed over Elana's bed and stared down upon her. "I did not notice it, but all of a sudden you were gone."

"I merely left early before everyone else did." She responded calmly and pushed herself up with her elbows. "Does that bother you?" Her eyes followed the half-blood as the latter moved to sit on another bed, taking off her shoes and stretched.

"No, not at all, of course! But you did see what happened with the Seeker, yes?"

"Yes, I did. But Selwyn will be fine no matter what, even if I stayed or left, I am sure." Elana carefully corrected her school robes before directing her attention back towards the other Slytherin girl. "And it is none of my business what happens nor is it yours," with that she rose unto her feet and moved to her book bag.

Rummaging through its insides, she listened silently, calmly to what Newell said next; but her brow furrowed inwardly. "I can not help but worry a bit. He was unconscious when they took him to the Hospital Wing: he might have been badly injured–" She cut herself off as Elana stood up once more, back rigid, quietly staring at the wall in thoughts.

"He will be fine," Elana almost whispered; her face turned back towards the half-blood with a polite smile. "If you will have me excused, I need to finish some homework." She walked out the door and discarded Newell's question if she could join the pureblood. Her grip around the Astronomy book was tight and she felt her fingers turn numb; the common room was filled with cheerful Slytherins as they celebrated their first victory. Elana even spotted a few of the players, still in the Quidditch uniform.

But she strode past all of them without another glance; they were not even concerned about the key player who had _assured_ their victory. To them winning was everything even if people got hurt. She passed through the entrance and headed off towards the hospital wing, where she knew she would find the injured Quidditch player and _some _of the team.

She was not quite sure what to do when she got there; her mind worked hard to come up with an excuse good enough. Her brother would be suspicious, just like he always was. "Off to make sure he is fine?" An all too familiar voice broke her concentration and made her come to a sudden stop. Her dark blue eyes narrowed when she came face to face with the Slytherin boy; Riddle stood across from her and his facial expression almost _scared_ her. "It certainly was a horrible accident."

A polite smile in place, he took a step closer. "Do not think I will fall for your little act, Riddle." Elana retorted coldly. "I am well aware of what you really are." _Manipulating_. The boy in front of her was an enemy and she would not be dragged into his web like everyone else. His façade crumbled in front of her to be replaced with what she was used to; a half-blood far too smart for his own good in stead of a young – rather handsome – polite boy as he tried to be. "Now excuse me, but I do not have time to play with you."

She brushed past him but was forced to stop once more. Her eyes flickered to the fingers wrapped around her upper arm, and then they flickered dangerously unto the boy once more. Elana could see the tip of his teeth as they were bared in a smirk; it dawned on her. There had been a reason for them to meet on the first floor so far away from the Common Room – why else would he be _there_? "Who says I am done with you?"

"I do," she tried wrestling her arm away from him, but, much to her displeasure, discovered he was far stronger than her. "Let go," her tone was cautious as she glared daggers at him. He had known she would sooner or later make her way to the Hospital Wing to visit Selwyn, and he had been waiting. Had she walked directly into a trap? Elana scolded her own stupidity; she should not even have stopped when she had seen him. It was not safe to be alone with him. In fact, she should have hexed him on sight if anything.

She kept her eyes locked with Riddle's, noticing how the two, pitch black orbs held absolutely _no_ emotions whatsoever. "I warn you, Riddle … Unhand me this instant," the pureblood girl tried to keep his attention on her words, while she secretly tried to slip her free hand into her pocket for the wand. If only he would not notice.

"No," he responded frankly. "And I would not do that if I were you." Elana froze when the end of another wand pressed against her neck; her eyes widened slightly and she withdrew her hand from her pocket. "There is no need to fight, I merely wish to talk."

She sighed. "Very well." There was no other choice, not with a wand pointed directly at her; he would be able to hex her before she could do a thing. Her mind worked ferociously to come up with an escape. "But I would suggest you remove your wand from my neck … it would be rather _entertaining _if a teacher walked by and saw this scene." From the corner of an eye she saw him lower it, with only a few inches. Riddle clearly did not trust her. After _this_ he would be foolish to do so. "Well then, what can I assist you with?"

"I merely thought it was time that I _repaid _you for your little, white lie earlier." Elana felt her blood freeze at the tone of his silky voice; she forced herself to not react on his words but to keep her mask intact. With an eyebrow half raised the witch watched him, eyes trailing over his good-looking, yet contorted, face.

"Oh?" She mused, chuckling, even though her heart was pounding so loud he could probably hear it. "How so?"

Elana felt his breath against her ear as he leaned close. She considered biting him. "For you to keep my little secret I will keep yours." Chills ran down her spine and she tried to pull away; she had underestimated him. She hated herself for admitting it, but it was the truth. The black haired boy was a far greater opponent than she had first expected.

"I do not have any secrets, so I cannot and will not accept this as payment."

"Really?" He was still too close to her, but Elana had stopped struggling for now. What was the point anyways? His wand was in her way and as long as it was, there was nothing much for her to do. "So you are telling me you are not in love with that Seeker?"

Her eyes turned to slits.


	6. Chapter VI

I did my best to not ask for this but ... Reviews are much appreciated since, well, you are all able to read this story (if that is something you want) and I deserve something in return! If I may say so. Just a tiny review since I have no clue if I should continue or not: and if you want to know what happens then it'd be a good idea to let me know so. That's about it, sorry I'm being a bother; but now I'm at it is I might as well come with the disclaimer:

I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters except for the original ones in **It's in our Blood**, they're mine, no touching! (And it's not like I forgot the infamous disclaimer, it's just I tried to drag it out as long as possible so I could imagine I _did_ write Harry Potter.) And other than that... don't copy my work - or feel free to as long as I get the credit I deserve of course. Then it's fine. Spread the word really, it's cool. But other than that, sorry if I make grammatic and/or spelling mistakes: I have the brilliant excuse that I am not born English and then it's hard with a non-native language.

I think that covered most of. Enjoy and please do review or... message me. It's all good, just _praise _me!

Praise me! As needy as that makes me sound ...

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter VI

* * *

Elana glared at him, disbelief written across her face. "_What_ did you just say?" The witch hissed at him through gritted teeth, her hands balling into fists. How dared he try and use _that_ against her; it had nothing to do with him at all and still there he was, sticking his nose into things that were absolutely none of his business whatsoever. He opened his mouth, the smirk still in place, to taunt her further. But she cut him off: "I will not tolerate your behaviour, Riddle, I can tell you that much."

Her hand, still holding onto the Astronomy book, started to feel numb in the wizard's grip. She wanted to throw it straight at him, preferably his face – but with the position she was in, she could not. Unfortunately. "My behaviour, is it? I merely asked a question."

She let out a hollow laughter. "_Merely asked a question_?" She mocked him, slowly forgetting it was _he_, who held a wand. Not her. "You dare grab on to me like this … you call that _asking questions_?" Elana once again tried to pull her arm away, but the other Slytherin did not as much as flinch, even though her temperament was rising. Elana felt angry and humiliated, unable to push him away. "I will make your life here at Hogwarts unbearable if you do not remove your hand immediately, this is your final warning."

The two first years stared each other down, neither wanted to be the first to break eye contact. It was as if time stood still around them; the chilly sun bathed the corridor in a faint, golden light, and a few noises were heard from the portraits on the walls, the wizards and witches curiously discussing the argument in hushed, whispering voices. But as Elana looked directly into Riddle's eyes, she knew he would not back down.

Then all of a sudden he let go of her and took a step back. She quickly furthered the distance between them, an eyebrow sceptically raised at his sudden change of manners. But then she heard, what he had heard, and understood; the sound of voices reached them from down the corridor as people approached. A smirk spread across her face. "Too bad." Elana turned her attention towards the end of the hall, her free hand once again digging down into her pocket.

She pulled out her wand, prepared to throw a spell at the other first year if he as much as blinked. The black haired girl had never felt as relieved as she did then; Elliot and Albert had turned the corner and appeared, just when she was in the need of help. The two older Slytherin boys halted slightly at the sight. "Elana, what are you doing here?"

She slid her wand up into her sleeve to hide it from her brother's watchful eyes. Then, as she started walking towards the newly arrived, she put up her usual, polite smile. "I was concerned, so … Well, I wanted to pay him a visit. How is he?"

Gamp was quick to take the bait and she managed to direct the attention elsewhere, away from the half-blood. "He just regained consciousness, so it's better now. And the matron already fixed his bones, so he'll be resting over the night and then he's out again."

"I see," she responded. Her eyes lingered thoughtfully on her brother, as the other Fowl had his calculating eyes fixated upon the first year boy. She knew that look all too well. Elliot had instantly understood something was going on; Elana had not acted fast enough. Not sure why, but the witch had felt it best to keep everyone else out of her and Riddle's problems, but now her brother was about to interfere. Perhaps she was too proud to allow others to help her? "Then, I will be on my way."

She walked past Albert, hoping her brother would leave it at that. But … of course not. "Stop." Elana closed her eyes with a silent sigh, counting slowly in her head before turning around again. She silently looked at her brother; he motioned for her and she quickly strode up in front of him, tilting her head slightly up to look at him directly.

"Yes?"

The two pairs of identical eyes stared long at each other; his were composed and calculating while she tried her best to keep hers completely emotionless. She hoped it was nothing. "What were you doing with _him_?" Her gaze flickered past her brother's shoulder towards the Slytherin boy; he merely watched the three purebloods without moving as much as a muscle. Elana once again forced herself to smile.

"Nothing," she lied perfectly. Elana never felt bad for lying to her brother, as long as it would not backfire. What he did not know would not harm him. Nor would it influence the Fowl family in any way. He did not have to get involved in _her_ problems; she was raised to take care of it herself. And that was _exactly_ what she was planning to do. It was true that Tom Riddle was a greater opponent than she had expected, but she would not back down. Her pride would never allow it. Elana felt confident she could win this battle.

"You better not." His tone was warning but, as she had been scolded far too often, she knew he was not angry with her. She nodded slightly to show she understood. "But go see Selwyn then, I am sure he will appreciate your company." Elana could not help but smile truthfully as she once again walked away from the boys; somewhat happy to have gotten out of it that easily. But as she rounded the corner of the corridor, her brow furrowed.

_Too _easy. Her smile faltered and she heaved a sigh.

Of course she had not outsmarted her brother – she never did. He had let her go so they could be alone with Riddle. Elana tugged a strand of loose hair behind her ear and glanced back down the corridor, thoughtfully considering going back. But she knew there was nothing she could do. It would be too late. She would have to leave it to the first year to get out of it alone; and then again, he _did_ deserve it.

* * *

Tom merely watched the situation unfold, carefully considering the possible outcomes. He knew the black haired Slytherin was the brother of the Fowl girl; but that was about it. He had not seen it to be of any relevance to know anything else about the other students. The two fifth year boys talked among each other in hushed voices, but then they walked over. "You are?" The Fowl inquired and the half-blood found himself pressed against one of the walls, the two purebloods towering above him by more than a head.

"What is it to you?" Even though he was cornered, his pride would never allow for him to back down. And he highly doubted they would go further than threats and intimidation; but he still held tightly onto his wand if a fight did start – whether he could take out far older and more experienced wizards he preferred not to think about.

"Your name," Fowl demanded once more. Even though his expression never changed, it was obvious he was about to lose his patience. But then he did something that took Tom off guard. He _smiled_. The smile was a complete replica of his sister's; and that unnerved the young boy more than anything else could have. He had seen it more than once when she was about to manipulate someone, and now Tom knew where she had it from. But, since he knew the meaning behind it, he would not fall for it. "I am only a concerned brother. Surely you can understand, I do not wish for my younger sibling to associate with the _wrong _people. So, I merely wanted to make sure _you_ are not one of _them_."

Tom could play that game too. He put on the polite and ingratiate smile that was usually reserved for the professors. "Of course I understand. It would not good if she got into trouble," he responded well-mannered. "I apologize for my previous behaviour, but you can never be too careful when you give out your name. You can never know in what way they will use it. I am Peter Avery."

"_Avery_?" It was rather obvious both the Slytherins recognized the name, slowly turning it over in their minds. Which was exactly why Tom decided to use it in stead of his own; they would be more hesitant to act against a fellow pureblood. And if they did decide to _persuade _him to stay away from the first year girl, then they would be looking for the wrong person; of course unless they knew the true face of _Peter Avery_. That was something he would not think about either. "Well, Avery, listen up. I would appreciate it if you would steer clear of Elana and not use her for personal _fame_."

He forced his smile to stay up as he listened to the barely hidden threat, if hidden at all. "Very well, but I only guided her in the right direction. Nothing more." They watched each other attentively. But Tom had other things to do than loiter around the entire day; and so he motioned to leave. "Excuse me, though, I was on my way to the common room." He briskly walked past the older boy down the corridor, headed for the lower parts of the castle.

It seemed he was gaining more and more enemies.

Tom Riddle entered the Slytherin common room and was met with a completely filled dungeon; a blue and red sparkling spell wheezed past him and exploded against the wall, someone was loudly singing incomprehensible lyrics, and a couple of people even danced all over the tables, kicking off any books that might have been there. Books and parchment were spread everywhere. While, all at the same time, chants of _"Slytherin! Slytherin!"_ were yelled out in celebration of their victory.

The half-blood wizard raised an eyebrow slightly at the sight. He could not understand why they would celebrate the victory over Gryffindor that much; it was merely a game: nothing more, nothing less. He manoeuvred his way past the cheerful Slytherins on his way towards the first year sleeping quarters, when his name was shouted out: "Hey! Riddle!" Tom's eyes scurried towards his fellow classmate, quickly approaching through the mass of people. "Where'd you go?"

He watched Avery thoughtfully, once again remembering the meeting in the first floor corridor. "Out," the black haired boy answered; there was no time to waste on the pureblood. He had to come up with a way to solve the problem with Fowl. Soon. _Elana Fowl_ was a nuisance that had to be dealt with; she was far too influential and Tom could not allow her to get in his way. He knew she would ruin his time at Hogwarts unless he got rid of her. Perhaps threatening her had not been his best idea?

"No kidding," Avery bobbed his head in the direction of the black leather couches, furthest away in one of the corners of the common room. "Come join us, won't you?" Opening his mouth to decline, he noted the fifth year students from earlier enter and changed his mind.

"Only for a while, then." Pressing their way through the crowd, he felt them push and shove from all directions, but then he finally slumped down into one of the couches. Avery followed suit. Tom overlooked the others. Slowly recognizing the three boys to be from his own year, he tried to remember their names.

_Nott. _The pureblood looked as bored and indifferent as usual, casually seated in an armchair as he eyed Tom. But the other two did not ring any bell; his brow furrowed. It was a waste of his time to sit around, trying to remember names of meaningless people. Yes still, there he was … One of the two, a blonde haired boy, watched him thoughtfully. "You clearly do not remember our names."

Their eyes met as Tom's attention was caught by the statement. "I unfortunately must admit it has slipped my mind," he responded politely, taking in the blonde; this one clearly was not stupid. Once again his mind raced, thinking out different possibilities and whether the Slytherin could be used or discarded. The wizard had an air of superiority about him, casually leaned back in his seat as if he owned the place.

"Sebastian Lestrange," he introduced and reached across the wooden table to shake hands. Tom grabbed it firmly, eyes never leaving the other. "I am most certain you at least have heard of my family's name. Especially if you are as close to Fowl, as Peter now claims." The other pureblood, by the mentioning of his name, quickly joined the conversation.

"I only told you what I heard _her_ say." Avery interjected with a scowl. Tom once again pulled back and rested into the soft pillows of the couch. "And if you do not believe it, feel free to ask her about it." An eyebrow raised, he looked between the two purebloods and tried to read the atmosphere. Tom was not quite sure if they were on good or bad terms.

"How can you be sure she was telling the truth?" Lestrange retorted; he was clearly not certain about the situation. "I merely vented my thoughts, as _I_, personally,have never heard of _Riddle_ before," the last part was directed towards the half-blood.

Tom's eyes narrowed. He most definitely was not stupid.

The Slytherin felt a minor bit uncomfortable with the way the conversation was steered; if this continued they would perhaps conclude he was different from them. A _half-blood_. Once the first years were certain of this he would be an outcast, just like he was in the orphanage. Tom had no intentions of answering. And luckily he did not have to as the last, of the four purebloods, spoke up: "Avery, Lestrange … Both of you should end this argument."

The boy's face was sickly pale and he seemed to be ill; his curly brown hair covered most of his eyes, dark circles underlined them, and he pressed a hand against his own forehead with a sigh. "I was only _chatting_ with Peter, you know that don't you, Mulciber?" Lestrange snapped, somewhat annoyed with the interruption.

"Clearly," Mulciber responded tiredly and he brushed hair away from his eyes. "But it is remarkably tiresome to listen to anyways. But then again, it would be worth listening to you two, if it took down Fowl – unfortunately _that_ has yet to happen. And then again I doubt you two morons could ever accomplish something like that." Tom silently watched the four purebloods, took in their features as he tried to get a grasp of their personalities; in the end he came to a conclusion. They could be used. Even though the purebloods in front of him were smart – raised to be suspicious of everyone, he knew they were all looking for the exact same thing.

_Fame_.

More than that, they all seemed, in one way or another, to dislike the Fowl family. The girl was not exactly popular with her fellow first years; and all of that gave Tom a perfect opportunity if only he could play his cards right. And he would make sure to do exactly _that_. She had helped him to this chance and perhaps it was time to return the _favour_.

* * *

Elana pushed the heavy door to the Hospital Wing open slowly and glanced inside. She had never been there before, so her eyes quickly scanned the room as she took in the details; several beds lined two of the walls, a safe distance between them all to give the hospitalized a chance for some privacy. But only one of the beds was occupied. The black haired girl strode across the floor towards the other Slytherin; he looked up as she approached.

"Hello, Elana." She came to a halt at the end of his bed and took in his features. It seemed the Matron had healed most of his bruises and there were no signs of the previous fall. He did not look injured at all and she felt somewhat relieved. "Have you come to pay me a visit?" Selwyn asked her politely with a smile, and then he motioned for a chair next to his sickbed.

"Yes," sitting down, she sorted out her school uniform before she once again looked at him. "I thought I would drop by to see how you were, but it does not seem like anything is wrong." She placed her Astronomy book in her lap.

"Your company is still most welcome." Selwyn said as his calm eyes fell upon her book. "But if you need a hand with your homework that is fine as well." Elana chuckled slightly and drew the book closer to her, faintly shaking her head no in response; of course she did not just visit him to get assistance with her homework. She had already finished that a long time ago.

"I merely used it as an excuse to get away," her finger ran across the book's back, feeling the protruding title, written in golden letters. "They were creating far too much noise after your victory …" She trailed off and turned her face upwards, watching the ceiling high above. Her black hair tickled the back of her neck and she felt her ears heat up. "You did well."

She heard the rustling of sheets and clothes and she turned her attention back towards the Slytherin boy. Selwyn had sat up straight, his eyes calculating as usual and gaze firmly planted on Elana; she raised an eyebrow in an attempt to act normal. It was not like she had said anything _unusual_. "It is rare for you to compliment others," he spoke thoughtfully, watching her partly amused. "But thank you."

Elana _hm_'ed lowly. "I praise people when they deserve it."

A silence fell over the two. But it was only briefly as Selwyn broke it once more with a rather _sly_ comment. "How are you getting along with that Gryffindor girl?" Elana's eyes widened before she could stop herself and she watched him in disbelief. But a faint feeling of horror had crept up on her; she opened her mouth to deny it all, but he cut her off. "Do not worry; your brother is not suspicious about it."

The pureblood leaned back in her chair and watched him; Elliot may not have been suspicious but _she_ was. "There is clearly a '_but' _somewhere in there." She interjected. Would the fifth year in front of her use it against her? Or keep her secret? "And I would still say there is _nothing_ between her and I." Whatever it was, she had to get control over the situation right away.

"There is no _but_," he answered. Her eyes narrowed even further when she saw his faint smirk. Clearly not. "I just thought I would warn you. Not only for your own sake. You got to think of _her_ too, if she really is a friend. If your brother found out how do you think the outcome would be?" Elana once again turned her face away, this time running her eyes over the floor below and her own feet.

"I know," she cleared her throat. "That is why I told her to stay away from me."

She suddenly felt pressure on top of her head, her hair pressed down slightly as he ruffled her hair with a hand. "Here is the 'but', then. You have to think of yourself as well; do not always worry of how your brother will react. If you do not get any friends here at Hogwarts how will it go?" Elana bit down into her lower lip before she turned her face up, a smile in place. She knew how it was without friends. She was all too used to it.

"I do not need friends."


	7. Chapter VII

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter VII

* * *

"Out of the way, _Mudblood_!" Tom silently watched Lestrange, as the pureblood shoved another student out of the way rather harshly. The girl was beyond terrified and unable to respond to the treatment, almost clutching at the wall she had been pushed against. Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. The Slytherin boys came to a halt in front of the Potions classroom and made everyone around them back off. No one dared to approach the young wizards. Tom did not mind the annihilation that the other first years showed, not when he compared it to how he was excluded in the orphanage; the Hogwarts students did it out of respect and fear. Not because he was _abnormal_.

Tom had been quick to gather a group, consisting of his fellow Slytherin first years. After Mulciber had silenced the two others' questions the previous night, the black haired wizard was immediately welcomed into their little gang. He thoughtfully overlooked the four. They were a mixed bunch: the silent Nott; the authority, Mulciber; and the constantly arguing Lestrange and Avery. All from prominent and powerful pureblood families.

And then of course, there was Tom Riddle. He was not sure of how to interact with the other boys, since he had never really had any friends before– His brow furrowed slightly at the thought, eyes swiftly scanning over the four. _Friends_? Was that what it was? Tom felt a bit of annoyance in the pit of his stomach; friends were not something he had time for, they were dead weight and would slow him down.

"Can't believe they allow those into Hogwarts …" Lestrange complained loudly and it did not seem like he minded that the hallway was indeed filled with Gryffindors. Tom silently listened; his interest perked slightly when he spotted a deep scowl creeping onto the pureblood's face. "Or _her_ for that matter." Wordlessly agreeing to the words spoken, the half-blood narrowed his eyes down upon the female pureblood. Fowl raised an eyebrow at the gathered.

"Such a lovely mood you are in today, Lestrange. Good morning," she greeted politely with a smile, even though it was rather obvious she held as much distaste towards them, as they did towards her. "You could at least pretend to enjoy my company." The witch briskly brushed a strand of hair away from her face, eyes quickly scanning over the five Slytherin boys. A faint smirk showed across her lips. "How nice you all get along so well."

"Don't be jealous just because _we_ have friends." Lestrange retorted sourly. It seemed like there was a certain amount of hostility between the two pureblood; and neither tried to hide it. "And you obviously only came over here since you were feeling lonely. I almost pity you," a wide grin spread from one ear to another as Lestrange found his own argument rather clever. He crossed both arms across his chest and stood straight, towering over a head above the witch.

Tom only cared faintly for their discussion, if he really cared at all. Their bickering was rather tedious to listen to. When he looked at the girl, he instantly knew she was not even fazed with the insults. "Unfortunately, no." Or, at least he did not care for the matter until he felt fingers grip around his lower arm; she held on to him only lightly, but he still stared astonished down onto the pair of hands. Then with an eyebrow raised, he looked up to the witch once more. "I am here to borrow Mr. Riddle for a moment," her usual polite smile was once again in place. "Hope you do not mind I borrow him for a minute?"

She nudged him away from the gaping group and the rest of the class, and they quickly rounded a corner to get out of sight. Tom pulled away from the pureblood; an unwary feeling crept up on him as he watched the smiling girl. He stared blankly at her. "What do you want?"

She hummed lowly with a thoughtful voice, as if she had to think about the answer. Fowl tipped back and forth on her heels. Tom knew well the pureblood had not just dragged him away for fun. Well, perhaps she did enjoy it … "Good question …" Though it did not take long before her trademark smile appeared, her eyes locked with his: if he looked deep enough, it was easy to see it was fake, the two dark blue orbs void of any real emotions. "I merely wanted to know what my brother talked to you about."

Tom raised an eyebrow at the witch. "That is none of your business?"

"Oh, but it is." She retorted. Fowl tried to keep her nerve; Tom was too stubborn to answer her straight out. "You see," She carefully planned her words, a faint wrinkle showed between her eyebrows. Then she added another layer to her smile. "I need to know what you might just have told my brother. First of all, since we should get our stories straight; if he asks me anything I need to tell the same as you did."

"And why is that?"

She heaved a sigh at his behaviour, although she had somewhat expected it. Her patience running thin, she opened her mouth to retort but a fellow Slytherin cut her off: "Hey, Tom! Class is starting," the voice of Avery reached them from around the corner. His eyes scurried towards the girl at his side, thoughtfully, but then he turned on his heel and strode off towards the classroom. Fowl was left behind in the dim light, a faint, irritated scowl slowly taking over her features.

He slipped in past the other first years and sent a curt nod towards the potions professor. Slughorn delighted greeted one of his brightest students good morning, ushering the rest to their seats without a glance. "How are you today, Tom?"

"I am just fine, sir." The young wizard had quickly set up his polite smile, even though his muscles complained annoyed, trying to ignore the girl who brushed past him. But his eyes still followed her, and he watched as she took a seat among the Slytherin girls; the two instantly welcomed her into the conversation, but it seemed she cut them short.

* * *

The faint sound of scribbling pens across parchment filled the dungeon. Elana brushed her hair away from her face and felt the feather of the quill tickle her neck; she glanced up, eyes scanning over the many shelves of liquids and reagents. Slughorn had decided to spend the class with a small, _fun_ test about antidotes: she felt slightly bored with the entire ordeal compared to most of her classmates.

Elana had already read up on antidotes and poisons so it was almost a walk in the park. The black haired girl glanced to her sides, first taking in Greengrass' features; the other pureblood was carefully and neatly writing over the parchment in a somewhat carefree manner, pausing once in a while to stifle a yawn. Newell constantly ran a hand through her golden curls and bit into her lip; she had written only half a page and appeared to be completely blank on the subject. But then Elana turned her attention back onto her own essay as Slughorn passed by their table, and with her quill she encircled her own name thoughtfully.

She had already finished.

Almost four pages had been filled with her tidy handwriting, which should be more than enough to satisfy the professor.

A slight spark of satisfaction crossed her face, when, eyes scanning over Riddle at a table nearby, she smugly noted how he was still noting down more onto his essay. His dark hair fell into his eyes. For once had she finished as the first; it had become more and more frequent that Tom Riddle beat her to it, but not this time. Quickly rolling up the parchment she raised her hand slightly to catch the professor's attention; her sleeve fell down her arm and she felt the chill of the dungeon. It had gotten colder.

Professor Slughorn returned to her table and overlooked the girl. "Finished already, Miss Fowl?" His voice cut through the silence of the dungeon and she returned his question with a nod. "Well done," he chuckled, taking the essay from her. "Then there is no need to keep you here; off you go then!"

"Thank you, professor." She collected her belongings and stuffed them down into her bag quickly; with that Elana stood up and left the dungeon, a last glance in the direction of the Slytherin boy. He glanced back towards her, a grim look written across his face; winning always felt good. Then Elana found herself in the hall, halfway through class with nothing to spend her remaining time on. She heaved a sigh and walked towards the Library.

* * *

An odd feeling roamed in the pit of his stomach, but over the last couple of months he had become more accustomed to it. He was annoyed. Almost angry, perhaps? Whatever the feeling was he did not like it. Tom had felt it ever since Fowl had left Potions before him; she had beaten him. The Slytherin boy passed through the doors into the Library, quickly heading towards his usual spot by one of the windows near the back of the room: Tom preferred the silence here compared to the common room.

He could not focus there.

Not with all the noise and clamour, not with the other first years constantly arguing by his side; spells flying back and forth and with girls clattering. It was almost at the point of being unbearable. There was rarely anyone in the Library. A few older students would once in a while huddle together at a table to work, also taking advantage of the stillness, and sometimes he would run into one of the professors, on the lookout for certain books. But, today was yet another day, where he found the aisles between the grand bookshelves empty, and a silence, only broken by the librarian's methodical stamping at the entrance, had settled.

But as he approached the dusty corner near the Astrology section, he suddenly came to a halt. Their eyes met as the girl glanced up, her interest perked by the sound of footsteps; then she rolled her eyes, shook her head, and looked back into her book. "Just what I need," she muttered below her breath, turning over a page.

"I could say the same, Fowl." He retorted coldly. Neither of them cared to keep up their facades at that point, not when they were alone together – they knew what the other felt quite clearly – but nor did he bother to find another spot to study. That table was _his_. Their little fight had become tedious and boring, so he pulled out a chair across the pureblood and took a seat. He pulled out parchment, quills and a Transfiguration book, which he shortly after started to flip through. Tom did his best to ignore the feeling of being stared at, but his brow furrowed slightly as his patience was running thin. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Actually, yes." Her answer came as a mild surprise to him, but his thoughts instantly flew back to before their class. To their little _conversation _in the hallway. "It is not exactly a problem for you to help me with a little request, now is it, Riddle?" He carefully placed the book onto the table and looked at her, calculatingly and deep in thought.

"Not at all, Fowl." Her eyebrow scurried up slightly at his answer, but her eyes still held a hint of wariness. They did not trust each other with anything; his answer might as well be a lie – and Tom actually considered lying. "But I just cannot see what good it would do me."

Fowl heaved a sigh. "Riddle, Riddle, _Riddle_." With a hand she discarded her own book and leaned across the table; folding her fingers, she looked at him with a perfect smile. "What do you honestly think would happen if my brother did figure out you lied to him? Nothing good for either you or me, _that_ I can assure you of. So do us both a favour and tell me the truth. Or should I _force_ it out of you?"

Tom returned her gaze blankly, not showing any emotions at all. _Force him_? They both knew that would never happen; but at the same time, he could never be too sure. She might just try, really. "The only reason for me not to do it would be since it benefits you," he responded callously, once again turning his attention towards his book to indicate the conversation was nearing an end. He heard her sigh lowly. Eyes scanning across the pages without really picking up any of the words, he debated with himself. Perhaps it would be profitable for him too?

It would be an idea to use this opportunity. To get to an end in their little feud: he could in stead use her, rather than have her as an enemy, content with making his life just a bit harder than what it already was. Of course she would try the exact same thing, but Tom had enough confidence to believe he would be the victor. The rustling of papers caught his attention. He glanced up once more to the girl, noticing how she packed down her belongings. Fowl looked down upon him as she stood up from the chair. "Well, then I will be off."

Her footsteps echoed in the silence. She passed by him closely, her head held high as she slung the bag over her shoulders. Tom closed his eyes briefly before speaking: "I told him my name was Avery." She came to a sudden halt. The wizard glanced back over his shoulder onto her; she faced away from him without moving, rooted to the spot. But much to his surprise, her shoulders started to shake until she no longer could hold it back.

Laughing uncontrollably, the witch clutched her sides in order to not buckle over. "You– you did _what_?" She turned to face him, disbelief written across her face, mixed in with her amusement. His answer had apparently taken her by surprise, completely crumbling her indifferent façade. "That was absolutely _brilliant_." Tom was as astonished as her: of all the reactions he had imagined, _this_ was not one of them. "I knew you were different but to … to pretend to be Peter Avery? Unbelievable."

Quickly striding across the library floor once more, she pulled out a chair at the table. At first he merely stared at her but, pulling himself together, he spoke once more: "That was an unexpected reaction." She shrugged, placing her bag on the ground before looking back at him.

"And how did he react?" She questioned. Tom noted how her eyes turned hard; she had regained her posture, gotten over the sudden shock, and was once more attempting to gain control of the situation. "Did my brother actually _believe_ you?"

A bird chirped from outside the window. A clear, cheerful sound. The sun gleamed through the dusty windows into the Library; they were the only two there, most others were outside in the nice weather. Tom carefully thought his words through, but decided to speak in the end. "Yes," he recalled his meeting with the older Fowl. At least the pureblood had only given a warning for Tom to stay clear of his sister. Nothing more.

"Amazing he left it at only that …" She muttered, clearly speaking with herself and thinking out aloud. But her dark blue eyes turned to gaze at him. "What exactly would you do, if he _did_ know Avery already?" Fowl brushed a strand of hair away from her face, eyes never leaving his. This time it was Tom's turn to lightly shrug.

"He did not."

"Well, true …" She trailed off slightly, but only for a short while. "You know what, Riddle?" Tom raised an eyebrow, indicating he was listening. What now? "I honestly do believe we should pair up," promptly raising her hand to cut off his response, she continued. "After thinking it through, I understand you are quite gifted. It would be ridiculous of me to have you as an enemy. Both of us would benefit much more from it if we started working together … I know you have your plans for your time here. So do I. Let us stop getting in each other's way."

He did not answer. Brow slightly furrowed, he watched her from across the table. Tom was not certain if she meant it or not; and he did not plan to walk straight into a trap. Though, as he watched her, it slowly dawned on him: she was serious about it. Elana Fowl was trying to make peace with him. The question was if he should accept or not. She was rather unpopular with the purebloods in Slytherin, but that was due to her influence and _power_.

It would be stupid of him to decline her offer. Fowl was a far greater ally than any of the others in his House could ever become. Even if she would create new enemies, it was still more beneficial. So very much ... "Do not think I will not keep an eye on you," he finally retorted. A grin spread across her face as she nodded. "But I will accept this _friendship_."

As he spoke the words a chill ran down his spine. _Friends_. Neither of them regarded the other as such, but it was most likely the term most fit for their new situation. "Then I guess that is it?" They clearly had no idea what to do in a friendship or how to interact with each other. The atmosphere had suddenly become even tenser. "I will see you in the next class," Fowl picked up her things and walked out of the Library.

Tom was left behind, an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach once more. But this time it was different. He was not annoyed, no, he was anxious. He felt uncomfortable as he was unable to predict the outcome of this sudden alliance; but then he heaved a sigh and leaned back in the chair. Staring up onto the ceiling, he ran a hand through his black hair and closed his eyes. "We will see …" At least it was one problem out of the world.

Elana Fowl was not a serious threat.

At least for the moment.


	8. Chapter VIII

This is a rather long one, but I thought all the nice reviewers deserve it! Thank you so much for the feedback. It first of all warms my heart to know people like this story; secondly it is really nice that you take time off to ... well, tell me what you think. I would be happy if you all could continue with it: it's a great help for me. If you have anything - ideas or corrections, stuff like that - feel free to point it out.

It would be a great help.

But with that said: Do enjoy chapter 8 (I had to look up how to write that in Roman numbers, since I sort of forgot. Teehee, silly me!).

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter VII

* * *

Silence filled the classroom. It was especially the Slytherin first years that ogled their two classmates in disbelief: the hostility between Elana Fowl and Tom Riddle was a rather infamous topic, and so quite a commotion was raised when the pureblood girl picked a seat. The black haired boy eyed her from the corner of an eye, but did not react any further. "What are you up to?" Avery was clearly uncomfortable about the entire situation.

Fowl raised an eyebrow at the other pureblood, but then she directed her attention to her Transfiguration workbook. "What makes you think I am plotting anything, Mr. Avery?" She asked indifferently and turned a page, pretending to be reading. But Tom noticed the corner of her mouth twitch upwards. Of course Avery suspected her of something; when the boy continued to stare she slammed her book shut and sent him a pointed look. "Listen, I am only sitting here. Do you have a problem with that?"

Avery's face contorted into a scowl as he clearly wanted to continue the argument. Though he only ran a hand through his light brown hair, eyes flickering to the newly arrived professor. Dumbledore's timing was impeccable as usual; the somewhat playful shimmer in his half-moon spectacles, turned towards the Slytherin group, made Tom furrow his brow. "You even used the word _plotting_ yourself …" The pureblood boy muttered grumpily while taking a seat next to his friends.

Tom rolled his eyes inwardly. _The idiocy of these people_. With a sigh he turned his attention to the class; while he silently observed the Transfiguration professor, he noticed the lighting of the room change. The sky outside darkened significantly as grey clouds drifted over the castle grounds; the half-blood somehow ended up watching the change of weather in stead of listening to the class. Not that he needed to pay attention, having already read about _Switching Spells_ in his free time. And he had already perfected the spell.

It did not take long before heavy raindrops pounded against the windows of the classroom. A dull blanket covered the world outside, the rain blocking most of his vision of the grassy areas: he silently contemplated how horrible the trip from the Hogwarts castle to the Herbology greenhouses would become. Particularly since the weather got worse and worse. It seemed like a storm was approaching. _Fast_.

* * *

Tom had been right. At the end of Transfiguration, the downpour had left everyone absolutely discouraged; a couple of Ravenclaw girls passed him on the way out of the classroom, loudly complaining about the rain. "I just fixed my hair! It'll be completely ruined." He followed them with his eyes, thoughtfully, but turned his attention back to the Slytherins. As usual, it seemed Lestrange and Avery was in the middle of a heated discussion.

Apparently something about what spells to use in order to shield them from the rain. And that small discussion continued until they stood at the main entrance, reluctant to go any further. "They should just cancel class," Avery nagged and stuck his head out. Instantly recoiling, he shook his head vigorously like a wet dog and sent water flying everywhere. Tom felt a drop hit his face, the coolness quickly spreading across his cheek; as he heaved a sigh, he watched the four Slytherin purebloods.

"Stop whining. It is only water," Lestrange responded.

"If it is _only water_ then you go."

The two boys seemed ready to throw themselves at each other, but, before the incident could turn violent, a voice cut through. "Are the little girls afraid of water? How adorable," her sarcastic and taunting voice immediate made them both turn against a common enemy: she raised an eyebrow, but kept her smile in place. She nodded shortly at Tom and the others before stepping out into the rain, apparently not very fussed about getting soaked. "You will be late if you do not hurry up." Tom looked at her briefly, but then he stepped out into the downpour, too.

He fell into pace with her without really noticing, though neither uttered as much as a word to each other. The ground below their feet was slippery and wet; the earth had turned into mud and made passage almost impossible. Neither Tom nor Fowl gave away that they had trouble, at least compared to some of the others following behind. "This- this is _impo-_!" The sound of something slipping reached Tom's ear, quickly followed by countless of curses, and a loud _splat_. With an eyebrow raised, he turned and looked down on Avery; the pureblood was furiously boiling in anger, covered with mud from top to toe.

"I almost feel bad for you," of course the pureblood witch made use of the opportunity to pass a snide remark; she had also come to a halt, interested, as the pureblood was helped back onto his feet. The wizard looked ready to kill; his patience running thin: especially with the girl, who seemed to tick him off _quite _a bit.

"Do not make me push you," he warned with a tone low and dangerous.

Fowl raised her hands in surrender. "Fine, you have it hard enough." Her dark blue eyes lingered briefly on Tom before she started to walk once more, down the muddy slopes towards the greenhouses. There had been an odd gleam lingering deep down in those two orbs. "And the spell you were looking for is _Aguamenti_." Tom's ears perked up at her words, understanding exactly _why_ she was humoured.

The half-blood followed the witch. He listened to Avery mutter the incantation under his breath, somewhat hesitant yet still he did it. In the blink of an eye he was back at cursing loudly from the ground, having hit himself in the face with a jet of water. "I will kill her, I swear! Even if they send me to Azkaban for it!"

Tom rolled his eyes resignedly. The pureblood had been stupid enough to let his guard down; how he could possibly have trusted her was something Tom really did not understand. "Idiot," he murmured under his breath. After what seemed like _far_ too long, they finally reached the greenhouse. Soaked from head to toe, he found some shelter from the rain near the entrance door. Eyes scanning over the small group of first years, who had managed to fight their way down for class, he saw Fowl lean against the glass next to him.

His hair felt damp and sticky against his face, but it enabled him to secretly watch her from the corner of an eye. She had returned to her usual indifferent and stoic composure, thoughtfully staring out into the rain. The witch was as drenched as him. Her school robes were clammy and stuck to her, but it did not seem like she minded it much. She was probably too poised, he thought to himself. "You are staring."

"I am not."

The pureblood chuckled lightly. Tom heard the rustling of clothes, and he figured she had turned to watch him clearly. "Obviously not." Turning his face back towards her, the two stared each other down. But then her eyes flickered to his left, a smile spreading across her face. "Merlin's beard, what happened to you? It looks like someone dragged you through the mud." Feigning worry, even though she did not exactly succeed, she clasped a hand to her mouth. "You poor thing."

If Avery had been mad before, then it was _nothing _compared to now: it seemed her last remark had been the last straw, breaking the camel's back. "You are intolerable, absolutely intolerable. Do you honestly believe I will put up with your behaviour? I will _not_, that I can tell you. Not even if your family will torture me afterwards, I will kill you-" The raging Slytherin suddenly stopped himself and in stead glanced down to his chest. With a brow furrowed he vended his thoughts out aloud: "_Why_ are you pointing your wand at me?"

He seemed too dumbfounded to react further than that, but his fellow classmates were fast to counter her. Though she discarded their actions by raising her free hand, smile in place. "I do not plan to harm him," Tom silently, and rather bored, watched the scene unfold. He had no intentions of acting, even if she did curse the pureblood beyond recognition; he would perhaps even find _that _entertaining. "It is only a simple hot-air charm, doubt it will kill him."

The spectators all watched her suspiciously, eyes narrowed slightly. But as waves of hot air streamed against the pureblood, they somewhat relaxed; it did not take long before Avery's uniform had been dried off completely. Amazed, he stared from his robes to the witch. Tom was mildly surprised just as the others, but hid it as much as he could. What surprised him even more was the look on Avery's face.

And he was not the only to notice. Lestrange tried his hardest not to burst out laughing, but failed miserably. The other purebloods stared astonished at him, while Fowl merely raised an eyebrow. "That is somewhat unsettling," she stated blankly, and Tom silently agreed as it seemed the blonde wizard had developed a _crush_. At least that was the only explanation for him blushing furiously, beet red.

Not only was it unsettling, but it could also develop into a rather large problem. Tom did _not_ wish to handle dilemmas involving love. Just as a highly bemused Lestrange was about to comment and most likely taunt the young boy, the greenhouse door was finally opened. The strict and highly disliked Professor Beery peered out onto the drenched students, a satisfied look spread across her features. "Well, don't you all look like a bunch of drowned rats?"

"Well," Lestrange retorted with a grin. "So do you."

Tom was not sure whether the pureblood had aggravated the professor on purpose, but he did manage to draw the attention away from the still blushing Avery. This made him question the two boys' relationship even further: his brow furrowed slightly at the thought while Lestrange earned himself a detention. "That will be 10 points from Slytherin for your cheekiness, Lestrange."

Making his way past the other students, he felt the warmth of the greenhouse. His body instantly warmed up, fingers prickling slightly at the sudden change. He felt numb but found his usual spot at the end of the long, wooden table. A large plant pot, taking up most of the space on the stand, waited for them; several small, green seedlings rested peacefully in the soil. The black haired boy watched them with indifference, expecting the lesson to be just as the previous ones: cut the plant into pieces and gather the important parts.

"Since you all excelled well at the Severing Charm, I have prepared an easy _treat_ today." Rather sceptical now, they stared at the seedlings with caution. "These little ones are _Screechsnaps_," Beery explained while picking one up between two fingers. The plant looked like a flower bud with lime green petals; but what caught everyone's attention were the roots, whirling around in midair as they tried to find solid ground. In the end they entangled the Professor's wrist for security, letting out a soft hum of approval. "I prepared one for all of you," she tapped the plant lightly with her wand.

It reluctantly released her arm and sunk back into the earth. Just as it did, several other seedlings popped up from the ground and buzzed happily, much to the pleasure of the first year girls. Squealing in delight at the small, _adorable_ creatures, the lesson seemed to be a huge success. At least with the female half of the class; Tom and the boys, on the other hand, were rather unenthusiastic about the whole affair.

"So we have to spend the entire class on _this_?" The always negative voice of Avery reached Tom, the pureblood clearly against it all. "I walked through a _storm _for _this_? You got to be kidding me."

Silently agreeing to the words spoken, the black haired Slytherin reached out towards a seedling. As he held it by a petal with two fingers, he watched the plant dangle back and forth; it hummed lowly, apparently enjoying the treatment. "You should not be so pessimistic, Avery." Fowl commented from across the table. Tom glanced up at her and noted how she was handling her Screechsnap even rougher than he; she tapped it around with her wand. The poor plant was running bewildered around in the soil, tumbling over. "They are rather entertaining, if I may say so."

Avery stared back at her blankly. "You are rather cruel," she sent him a polite smile before directing her attention back onto the seedling. "I somehow doubt you are even a girl."

"If you say so," muttering under her breath, the Screechsnap caught fire; its squeaks of terror caught everyone's attention. In shock, or amusement for some, they all watched the small creature run in circles in a futile attempt to put out the fire. "Oh, no, what to do?" She exclaimed worriedly. Most of the Slytherin boys merely stared at her, clearly not falling for her act; not that she thought they would.

"_What _is going on here?" Stomping over, Professor Beery appeared with an appalled look spread across her face. Her eyes flickered from the young witch to the seedling; Fowl raised an eyebrow, not bothered to even hide her wand. "You-" At what seemed to be a loss of words, the Herbology professor quickly put out the flames. But then, with an accusing finger pointed at the pureblood, she screeched one word: "_Detention_!"

"At my defence, professor, it was an accident." But the furious woman had already left them once more, carrying the traumatized seedling off with her. Fowl heaved a sigh; while stuffing down the wand into her pocket, she rolled her eyes. "The flames were even harmless," the pureblood looked up to find the Slytherin boys staring at her. "What?"

"I actually doubt if you are even _human_," Avery changed his earlier statement, an unreadable expression crossing his features as he looked at her.

The two stared at each other.

"And I doubt you are too, Avery. Crushing on her and all," Lestrange chimed with a hand around the other's neck. Avery gained a bright shade of red as he tried to defend himself from the assault. Once more had he interfered, much to Tom's astonishment. It had to be on purpose. Eyes flashing from the two now arguing wizards to the witch, he noticed her furrowed brow. Apparently he was not the only to notice.

* * *

Elana found a seat at the Slytherin table, for a second time noticing how everyone stared. The pureblood straightened her skirt before directing looking at the person next to her. "Do you feel people gawk a lot lately?" She started her conversation with Riddle, who was too busy reading to eat anything; with a flick of her wand, she quickly filled a goblet with pumpkin juice and pressed it to her lips. Without a single glance, she ignored Avery's opportunity to insult her after her question. It would probably just be about her looks, most likely, or something equally silly. That boy really was starting to get on her nerves.

But what annoyed her even further was the fact that Riddle did not respond. Suppressing a scowl, she in stead directed her attention to the food: the long table overflowed with countless of dishes, making it hard for her to pick one. But in the end she merely decided on a light salad. "How ladylike of you," she had believed Avery to be the one to comment, but his _nemesis _had beaten him to it. Lestrange watched her from across the table. Passively watching him, she tried to understand the peculiar stare he sent her. Something she had done?

"And now there is a problem with what I eat?" The witch asked civilly and took part of the conversation, although she found it absolutely silly. But she might as well _amuse _them some. "If you really wish to know, then I felt like torturing more plants. It saddens me though, seeing as they are already dead." She stabbed a lettuce leaf with her fork forcefully, eyes locked with the other pureblood.

Lestrange opened his mouth to retort, but just then she received help from an unexpected source, who cut the boy short. "Is it not enough, Lestrange?" Elana's eyes narrowed as she turned her head; Riddle did not even look up from his book as he spoke. He turned a page, his expressionless face in its usual mask of indifference. "You are ruining my focus," the other wizard recoiled with a murmur.

"Fine."

Elana was downright speechless. Tom Riddle had come to her _aid_; in stead of siding with his friend he had put a stop to their argument. She was speechless, but the feeling was quickly replaced with uneasiness and suspense. There had to be a reason behind his actions. Or maybe … Running a hand through her black hair, she observed him thoughtfully from the corner of an eye. Just maybe was it due to their little agreement. They had made _peace_.

The half-blood made no notion of participating in the conversation any further. Elana filled her goblet once more and, raising it to her lips, locked eyes with the pureblood across the table. Lestrange glared back sourly. So Riddle was capable of silencing the Slytherin boys now? The Great Hall bustled with noise of the other students; all four tables were filled to the brink as everyone was starved after classes. Laughter and chatter filled the entire room, but Elana, dwelling in thoughts, did not notice it.

Nor did she notice the older boy behind her.

That was, of course, until he spoke. "Elana, come sit with us." Her heart skipped a beat in shock. Mustering all of her willpower in order to not flinch, she turned in her seat to see her brother; sensing his mood, she quickly smiled at him and got up onto her feet. The witch never looked back onto the first years, before she walked further down the table to the older students. Gamp and Selwyn watched them approach.

They swiftly cleared a seat for her, and she noticed how everyone around them scooted away. That did not bode well. "Good evening," she greeted with a nod at the two Slytherins. Neither answered her, and she knew exactly _why_. Elliot was beyond angry and Elana dreaded the worst. But what she did not understand was the reason behind his foul mood; if anything it would have been her company at dinner. It could not be anything else. "What have I done, if I may ask?"

"You were with that boy again."

"Ah yes, _Avery_."


	9. Chapter IX

While writing this, I used a _window_ in the Slytherin dormitories. Halfway done I suddenly think "Hey, wait ... there shouldn't be any windows in a _dungeon _should there?". So after having facepalmed and stared at a wall in my emo corner, I had to change a few things. Once again, a silly mistake from my side off! But at least I noticed it before posting. Ah well, do enjoy chapter IX and do review!

Thank you.

At least I don't think there are any windows... if anyone later tells me there is, darn it! Oh, and I might just have mentioned this once already, but reviews are more than welcome! Lots of people have put me to favorites and alerts, but not as many reviews. Of course I am grateful for people just reading, but it's a way for others to perhaps want to read too: it's ... well-known that people at times pick stories after seing how many reviews it got. I do. So, yeah ... I'm quite fast at updating lately. Bless Easter Holiday. Unfortunately, though, it will not last for much longer - not only since it ends Monday, but I've sort of saved my homework for the last minute.

Yay for me at times. But do enjoy now! I won't ramble on any further.

Okay, fine! One last, minor, edition to this ... I really enjoyed writing the last part, not that I can mention anything about it right now since, well, yeah ... **Spoiler** much. ENJOY!

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter IX

* * *

Elana had been careless.

She should have been well aware of her brother's watchful eyes: it would be fine to associate with the Slytherin boys in _classes_. But how could she have possible believed he would not spot them at dinner? Especially since Elliot had already warned Tom to stay away from her, then he would of course be more alert about it. Tugging a strand of hair behind her ear, she spoke: "About that-"

"I would prefer if you stay clear of him." He cut her off before she could explain herself. Elana had known the outcome from the beginning; it was the usual. Whenever her brother did not find people _worthy_, then she was not allowed to have anything to do with them at all. She silently, with a straight face, listened. Elana could not explain why she felt irritated. She normally followed his orders to perfection, but at that time she did not feel like it.

She would _not_ stay clear of Riddle. Nor would she back down. "I understand," she responded quietly, eyes fixated on the golden plate in front of her. As she bid down in her lower lip, almost drawing blood, she counted silently in her head; there was no way she would loose her patience. Her brother knew best. It was for the good of the family, she told herself. "But, I see nothing wrong in merely speaking with them."

As soon as the words had left her mouth she recoiled. _I take that back!_ She had not just questioned her brother's actions, no. But the silence that spread in the small Slytherin group said it all. She scolded herself inwardly, knowing well she had made it all worse. "What was that?" Elliot asked in the end, even though he had heard it quite clearly.

"Nothing," she muttered in return, clutching her skirt tightly in her hands until it got completely wrinkled. "I did not mean it like that, brother. I am sorry." It was not often she felt like that, but she was _scared_. Elana forced herself to look down, to keep staring at the plate and nothing else; she would not cry. Not in front of everyone. It would be too great a humiliation that she could not bear it, an even greater shame towards her family if she would break down.

She pressed her eyes shut. She could handle it. "No, I did think it was nothing." His response was quiet, making only her capable of hearing it. "When you start acting on your own, you know how much trouble it gives me. Yes?" Elana nodded at her brother's question. It was always him who had to sort out the threats; she never did anything right. "Now, when I tell you to stay away from him, what do you do?"

"I stay away from him."

"Correct." Elana clenched her fists. Sometimes she really wished she was not a Fowl.

If only she had not been born a pureblood ...

* * *

When one of the purebloods finally brought up the subject of _Elana Fowl_, it was, much to Tom's surprise, Mulciber. He had expected Lestrange to corner him right after dinner, but he had not; and so Tom found himself in the Boys' Dormitory before the question was asked. "Why did you defend her?" He did not answer at first. Closing his _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_, he leaned back against the wall in his four-poster bed. The emerald green hangings with the Slytherin crest disrupted his vision of the others; but he knew they were awaiting an answer.

"I would not use the word _defend_," he began slowly, picking his words with diligence. "But I see no reason to make her an enemy." The green and silver pillows bellow rustled slightly as he shifted, trying to find a comfortable seating position. Their dormitory had been heated by a small fireplace during the day, and the usually clammy and cold room was now suitable to sleep in; unfortunately it did not seem like the other boys would let him.

"Though that is no explanation as to why you would interrupt me," Lestrange then joined the conversation while throwing a pillow at Avery, the latter dozing off in a heavily padded armchair. He nearly fell down, but managed to grab onto the armrest for support, where after he shot a sour look towards the other pureblood. "Moreover, none of us wishes to be anywhere _near_ her."

Tom's brow furrowed at the news. Of course, he was well aware of the resentment the pureblood wizards felt towards the witch, but _why_ was something he was not certain of. "Why exactly is that?" He asked, leaning forward in the bed to look at them; their faces were contorted in hesitation. He really did not understand purebloods: it almost seemed like they were _scared_. His eyes narrowed slightly. "She is just one _girl_."

Mulciber pressed a finger against each of his temples and massaged them slowly; the brown haired boy looked as pale and sick as always, if not more. "She said herself you were close to her family, if anyone would know it would be _you_." Tom scowled inwardly, cursing the lie she had made up. Yes, it had made him get accepted easier as a fellow _pureblood_, but it created just as many problems. He locked eyes with the other first year. Mulciber kept his stare only briefly; then he turned his face away and spoke again: "But, then again, you may not have that problem. It is not _her_."

He raised an eyebrow. "It's her family," Avery finished for Mulciber and joined the conversation, sitting up straight in the chair; while rubbing his eyes for sleep, he threw the pillow back at Lestrange. The other easily dodged it. "The Fowls are … different." Tom silently listened, more and more confused as they explained. He really had to read up on the pureblood families in order to understand their world. If not, there would be no way for him to make it through seven years at Hogwarts.

The flames in the fireplace flickered and sent shadows across the walls; there were no sounds to be heard outside the first year dormitory. Everyone else had gone to sleep a long time ago. The five boys had all become quiet in thought. The annoyance, which had become more and more frequent, had once again crept over him. Why did his mother have to leave him at the orphanage? After being told he was a wizard, had his resentment towards his parents become a greater part of his life: if they had not left him, then he would have to struggle so much to be accepted in the school.

His eyes lingered momentarily on the four boys. If only his last name had not been Riddle, but Mulciber, Nott, Lestrange, Avery … even Fowl. But it was not, he was a half-blood, unable to use his family as backup. _No_. His eyes hardened. Tom knew exactly what he had to do: he had to make a name for himself. He would prove to them all he deserved to be in Slytherin, no matter his blood status.

* * *

Elana Fowl did not approach them the following weeks, much to the pleasure of the Slytherin boys. None of them knew what had made her back off; if it was due to her older brother, who had forced her, or perhaps she was too busy, spending her time in the Library. Just as Tom. This, on the other hand, seemed to bother them quite a bit. They all, in one way or another, looked up to the black haired boy. He knew exactly how to act in front of the professors and never got in trouble – unlike Avery and Lestrange, who held a record of detentions – and he was beyond brilliant in classes.

But Tom Riddle had too much work to do. There was not enough time for him to waste on those so-called _friends_. In every break, between classes, and even during breakfast and dinner, he could be found in the school library, his nose buried in books. He had occupied an entire table, large stacks of history books blocking outsiders' view of him like walls; it had almost become an obsession for the eleven year old boy, trying to find clues of his ancestry. He _needed_ to know.

Even though he had told himself it did not matter who he descended from, Tom felt it a necessity; as if figuring it out would make everything easier – there could be no way he came from a lowly family. The light shone brightly through the clerestory windows in the library as the sun had paid a rare visit to the castle; dust sparkled in the sunlight, lazily gliding through the air. But it did nothing good for Tom's skin. He had stayed far too long in the library. Having barely eaten anything for days, he had become horribly malnourished; his skin was pale, and large, black circles underlined his eyes. But he could not afford to sleep or eat. Not before he came to the bottom of it all.

He cautiously, careful to not ruin the old book, turned an old, dusty page. It had been completely wrecked by time, and he suspected it would break into pieces if he breathed too hard: Tom blinked several times, trying to clear his foggy eyes and forced himself to focus once more. Name after name, but never did he come across _Riddle_. No one had the same surname as him, not even one that resembled … Nothing. In frustration, he ruffled his hair with a sigh before covering his face in his arms.

"This is ridiculous ..."

Perhaps he should give up? He felt his body slowly turn heavy, his eyes fighting to stay open. A small nap could not possibly hurt; it would even be beneficial for him. It would freshen him up, clear up his mind so he could focus better on the ancient hand-written texts. Yes, just for a minute or two, it would bring no harm. And so Tom fell in a deep slumber which did not last for only a little …

* * *

Elana had briskly passed the Slytherin boys in the common room, sparing them not even a single glance. She had done her best to follow her brother's orders of not only staying clear of them, but also Riddle; of course it had been remarkably easy as the half-blood had not shown up in the common room for days. Her brow furrowed slightly at the thought. Where exactly did he vanish off to?

As she walked down the corridors of the dungeon, her book bag slinging back and forth over her shoulder, her ears perked up at the sound of voices. Slowing down as she rounded the corner, Elana came face to face with the two first year witches; just what she did _not_ need. Newell was the first to spot her, mouth forming a round _O_ in surprise, but then she beamed widely. "Elana! Where are you going?"

Just as she had done with the rest of her House, she strode straight past them with only a single word. "Out," not even bothered with formalities such as a proper greeting, Elana climbed the stairs of the dungeon. The large, sturdy doors in the Entrance Hall had been fully opened, letting the fresh but chilly wind freely brush over the marble floor; it whipped up her hair while she continued up the several flights of stairs. Impatiently tugging it behind her ears, she ignored the footsteps that pursued her from behind.

Turning down one of the many corridors, she watched the sun from the open doors disappear: It was in stead replaced with the silence of the hallways, only a light chatter of conversation from the portraits on the walls. Elana finally came to a halt in front of the Library's entrance, eyes scurrying back to the two girls who had been following. "We were going here anyways," the half-blood stuttered an excuse before quickly walking over. "Hope you do not mind?"

Elana eyed them briefly, but then she entered the dusty room without answering. She walked straight towards the librarian at the front desk, who glanced up for a short moment; but then the elderly woman turned her attention back onto a large, yellow-paged book and stamped it hard. "Good day, Madam Wennell." The pureblood greeted the petite woman politely. "I have a few books I would like to return."

"Already, Miss Fowl? You certainly are a fast reader," the librarian responded and stamped the book once more; then she faced the first year with a small smile. Elana somewhat liked Madam Wennell, due to the woman's obvious disregard towards social standings. As long as people treated her books well, then she approved of them in return: and Elana did her best in order to not as much as wrinkle a single page. "Did you enjoy the one I suggested you?"

"Yes, very much. Thank you, it was a great help, too." She shuffled through her bag and pulled out a stack of books. As she placed them on the desk, she once more watched Newell and Greengrass, standing by the side. "I will take a look in the Reference Section, if I can make it before closing time?"

"Of course, you have plenty of time." With that the librarian waved her off; Elana strode down the aisle of bookshelves, from time to time glancing up at the section numbers. "Newell!" A screech reached her ears. Apparently something – or someone – had gotten on Madam Wennell bad side, and that person was the half-blood witch from Slytherin. "_What _exactly have you done to this book? Have you no shame? I should walk straight up to the Headmaster and demand your expulsion!"

The further down the rows of books, the fainter the voices became. Her footsteps echoed in the silence, but then she came to a sudden halt at what she saw. Elana raised an eyebrow, slightly taken by surprise. Tom Riddle lay across the table, face hidden in his arms as he was fast asleep; she walked across the floor and pulled out a chair across the Slytherin boy without making too much sound. And then she merely observed him, a half-smile spread across her lips.

But then she directed her attention to the piles of books, towering up on both sides. Carefully, she wrestled the old parchment out from below the wizard, without stirring him too much in his slumber. "What do we have here …?" Most of the names seemed familiar in her mind; she had been taught all the ancient family names since she was little, by a rather cranky, old housekeeper. Elana chuckled lightly at the memory. Elliot and she had been stuck in a room all through the burning hot summers, getting the lectures almost beaten into them. Her eyes flickered thoughtfully to the boy. "What are you up to?"

She received no answer as predicted; the witch inclined slightly towards the young wizard to peer at his face, barely visible between his crossed arms. She revelled faintly at how sick Riddle looked. Sick and tired. But then she remembered her brother's words and instantly leaped back in her chair, nearly tipping over; she quickly gripped the table with her fingers to steady herself. Forcing herself to once more return her attention to the parchment in front of her in stead of the boy, she pondered what he could possible be plotting.

"Elana, are you here?" A voice called out in the stillness of the library, almost violating the peace. The pureblood flinched inwardly at the minor shock, but then she locked eyes with the other first year girl. Newell had appeared from behind a bookshelf, Greengrass right in tow with several books in her arms; both gaped, first at her but then to the sleeping student. "What is-"

Pressing a finger gently against her own lips, Elana shushed the girl. "Just go," she then ordered, surprising her two classmates at her behaviour. "There is no need for you to be here, I am certain. So just go, please." As she watched their retreating backs, huddled together in whispers, she suddenly questioned her own, strange manners. What had just happened? Why had she shooed them away like that, just so they would not disrupt Riddle's sleep? The pureblood heaved a sigh and rested her head in her hand, supported by an elbow on the table. "I do not get you sometimes, Elana Fowl …"

* * *

When Tom woke it was to the sound of rustling papers. His forehead wrinkled lightly at the noise, but he kept staring down onto the table. He pretended to still be asleep as he tried to make out the identity of the other person, sitting across from him. He strained his ears for something that could possible give him or her away; but nothing helped, yet the young boy did not move any further.

He felt refreshed. There would be no way he had only slept for only a few minutes, not if he felt no signs of exhaustion anywhere in his body. He had almost forgotten the problems at hand and his search for answers; but he was painfully dragged back to reality as a chair scraped over the floor. This was followed by the sound of footsteps and a shadow fell over him. A voice reached his ears: a girl. An odd feeling rummaged in the pit of his stomach, somewhat certain of who it could be.

Why was it always her? But the shadow vanished again as she moved along. Slowly, as unnoticeable as possible, he raised his head lightly; what appeared in his vision stunned him completely. It was a small, remarkably pink _cupcake_ with an associated note, resting against the pastry; her handwriting was neat and meticulous but the message consisted of only a few words:

_Try to ask for 'Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy', it may be of use in your search._

Stumbling for words, and before he could stop himself, he turned in his chair just in time to stop her. "Thank you," his words rang in the library, a slight echo sent it right back at him; but she had frozen in her track, her face hidden by the long, black hair. Tom had to admit, much to his own displeasure, that he felt a tiny spark of happiness. And it was all due to the insignificant act of kindness the pureblood had shown.

"Do not thank me," she responded, voice calm as always. Fowl never turned to look at him, but kept her poised stand and her gaze fixated on a shelf; she ran a finger over the thick layer of dust as if writing something. "It is rather creepy." With the last – rather typical for her – remark, she left the library and Tom Riddle behind. If he had actually examined what she had written in the dust, he would have been able to read three small words: _You are welcome._


	10. Chapter X

I had planned to do my English and Danish essays, but noooooooo. You people decided to give so much feedback I went "awhh, you guys!" and yeah, this is what came out of that! Darn you all, I blame you if I fail any of my subjects. It will be _all_ your fault! ALL OF IT! With that ... Thank you all very much. To those who have submitted reviews anonymously I can't, due to certain obvious reasons, respond as personally as with others, but still thank you too!

Thank you all reviewers, warms my heart as usual. Keep it up, please!

And this is longer than the others! (if you look past the one exception, being Chapter I) But unfortunately I also believe it is somewhat boring ... I hope it is not, but if it is... Do tell me in a review! :) And no, I don't make them boring on purpose just to get reviews. I'm not desperate enough to stoop that low, yet. But just wait, I'll get there at some point most likely - unless of course I receive enough reviews. So dear readers, please help this poor author before she gets a mental breakdown and goes to talk to the wall (named Margaret).

But with all the boring parts it's just that I want to... involve the more important back-up characters, though fear not! Tom will be there soon, I promise.

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter X

* * *

Tom took a bite of the cupcake, the sweetness instantly dulling his taste buds; the boy had never been one for sweet things but felt obligated to eat it. It was a show of consideration as Fowl had clearly noticed his absence from breakfast and dinner almost every day for the last week or so. "How nice of you to grace us with your presence," Avery drawled and sounded almost _insulted_ while Tom took a seat in the _Defence Against the Dark Arts_ classroom. "And what on earth is it you are eating?" The pureblood sent the innocent pastry a sour look, as if it, too, offended him deeply.

"It was a gift," the black haired Slytherin responded.

With a loud _thud_, he placed the recommended book on the table and dust whirled up. Tom thoughtfully ran a finger over the old, dust-covered title. The boy next to him eyed it curiously, but then glanced back at his fellow classmate. "From _who_?" Avery was the only other Slytherin in the classroom at the time; the half-blood's brow furrowed lightly as he scanned the classroom. Several Gryffindors had already occupied half the chairs, chatting amongst each other while ignoring the two furthest back in the class. "It would not possible be … a _girl_, who gave it to you?"

"It was," he replied rather brusquely and then carefully opened the book to its first page; the pages were beyond primeval and felt like sandpaper between his fingers, almost as if it smouldered at his touch. He had searched half the library before stumbling over it, tucked away furthest in the back of the room; covered in dust, making it nearly invisible to the human eye. But he had found it. _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_ was, just as Fowl had expected when she advised him to read it, a great help in his search.

He had checked almost every single Pureblood family name, where at least one male member was still alive. But this old, overly used book in front of him contained information of extinct families, and maybe, just maybe, he would stumble across that single word. _Riddle_. Tom felt rather discouraged by all of his fruitless work, but there was a slight spark of hope somewhere deep down in the pit of his stomach. "But what exactly are you doing with _that_?" Avery bobbed his head at the book with a question.

Tom's eyes flickered towards the pureblood, a minor headache of annoyance creeping up on him. The other Slytherin asked far too many questions. "Was merely trying to find something," he then ignored the following _what?_, and in stead turned to the next page. But then, as the other Slytherins appeared in the door, he suddenly slammed the book shut rather forcefully; slightly surprised at his own actions, his gaze followed the three students' approach. Quickly shuffling through his bag, he hid the heavy book; the back of his mind told him to not let them see it. To keep it a _secret_.

"Look who decided to leave the Library for once," Lestrange strode over with confident footsteps, casually dropping his book bag onto the marble floor to pull out a chair. He nodded in acknowledgment at Tom and shot Avery a killing stare; this did not escape the half-blood's attention and his mind wandered to _why_ Avery had been alone in the classroom earlier and not with his usual group. "You look almost as sick as Mulciber." Lestrange joked with a laugh and shifted in his seat next to Tom.

"So very funny, Lestrange, you really do make me laugh." The pale Mulciber retorted but did nothing further. He, too, found a seat at the long table at the back of the class far away from the disliked Gryffindors. "Now shut up for once, before I hex you into oblivion, idiot."

* * *

Fighting her way through the crowd of students, a hand firmly gripping the strap of her bag, Elana strode hastily towards the classroom; she had been caught up in the parchment she had _borrowed_ from Riddle in the Library. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her and she had taken it without permission.

But she wanted to know what he was up to; she was uncertain if it was to assist him further or what exactly had made her do what she did – at least she had given him a book title in return. Something for something. One thing was certain though: she was late. The pureblood witch opened the door in a hurry only to find everyone else already there, the professor included, staring back at her.

"You made it just in time, Miss Fowl." The professor greeted Elana from the front of class, in the middle of writing on the blackboard with her wand. "Please find a seat."

Elana's eyes overlooked the room for an empty chair. "Sorry," she mumbled, a scowl crossing her features at the only vacant seat. Rapidly stepping down the aisle of tables, she edged her way past a few Gryffindor boys; the annoying wizard from her earlier detention, _Potter_, smirked exultantly at her. With an unnoticeable movement of her shoulder, she made her book bag smack into the back of his head. Somewhat satisfied with the _good deed of the day_, she slipped down into a seat.

"As I said," Galatea Merrythought spoke hoarsely to the class; the professor cleared her throat. "We will today take a look at _Hinkypunks_." Elana heaved a sigh and sank slightly down into her chair. She knew those small, misty-blue creatures all too well, as they often appeared in the grounds around Fowl mansion. She had played around with them when she was younger, until her Housekeeper had discovered her in between the rose bushes. It had all resulted in a nasty scolding. "Anyone can explain _why_ Hinkypunks are a threat to humans?"

Elana raised her hand lazily along with a few other students. Professor Merrythought indicated towards a Gryffindor girl; the brown haired witch stuttered lightly before speaking up hesitantly: "Uh- Hinkypunks lure people out into the bog with a light and … T–that's about it. Muggles refer to them as will-o'-the-wisp I think, or at least my parents do." The last part barely escaped her lips and ended up as a whisper. Elana leaned slightly forward over the table to get a look at the witch. _Isabella._

"That is correct," the older witch smiled encouraging towards the girl, but at the same time her eyes flashed warningly towards the back of the class. Elana knew why: there had been no doubt one of the Slytherins had let a snide remark pass about Isabella's Muggle parents. "When handling these creatures the easiest is to, well, _not_ follow their light. But it unfortunately has a tempting glow and will put you under a light spell; people with little to no resilience cannot escape them. If you do get lost in the bog or mist, then they will attack." Elana's eye scurried up: she had never really heard of the consequences that could have occurred from her playing around with the magical creatures. But then again, she would never fall for their trick. _Learn something new every day, it seems_.

"They feel secure enough in their natural habitat to attack both non-magical and magical people. So when the victim is lost in the mist, they can use their sharp teeth to rip and shred. But they are rather weak against defensive spells, so as long as one can withstand their opening attack they are easily pushed back. Today, we will work on a quite efficient Stunning Spell. The incantation is _Stupefy_." The witch quickly wrote the spell on the blackboard in italics; while she stood, back facing the class, she gave out instructions: "I have prepared pillows and mattresses, so please pair up two and two to practice it."

Elana craned her neck to look for a partner, but before she could do anything someone entered her field of vision. "So," Potter appeared in front of her, blocking off her escape with a wide grin, smugly tugging at the corner of his lips. "Why don't you and I spar?" The witch raised an eyebrow at the Gryffindor pureblood, though she in the end agreed.

"Sounds interesting, so sure, why not?" The two crossed the floor, weaving in and out between other pairs. She rummaged through her pocket and pulled out her wand; it felt comfortable in her hand and she felt rather confident. With a flick of her wand, she summoned a couple of pillows to spread across the hard floor. _He_ would need them. Potter turned to watch her, the smirk still in place. From the corner of an eye, she watched students from her own house; Riddle had paired up with Avery, but the half-blood stared directly back at her. With a nod, she turned her attention back towards her _practice dummy_. "Ladies first."

He growled at her, but shot back: "So you're not a _lady_?"

"Well, it will probably make up a better excuse for you afterwards." Elana said calmly, her usual, polite smile creeping up. "It does not sound too good, does it? Being send to the Hospital Wing by a girl?" She knew how short a fuse Potter had and he instantly picked up on her taunts. Although he had begun their duel without warning, she had expected it. As he shouted _'Stupefy'_, she instantly deflected the spell with a flick of her own wand, making it bounce off on the wall behind her. "Too bad, so sad: try again."

He frowned but quickly followed his attack with another "_Stupefy_!". The bolt of red light shot towards her with increased speed, but she was once again too fast for him; they circled around each other, Elana's eyes were constantly glued to his every move, but at the same time she watched out for obstacles around her as the manoeuvred her way around. Other students were far too indulged in their own play to pay attention to their surroundings, and the pureblood witch did not wish to be defeated due to someone standing in her way. "_Stupefy_! _Stupefy_!_ Stupefy_!"

She blocked every single spell with ease, making the Gryffindor boy more and more infuriated. But for Elana it was merely _entertaining_; she had participated in several duels that had actually been challenging. _This _was not one of them. "Try something else if it does not work, really. This is starting to become tedious," the witch called out. Her smile never faltered.

And so he did what she asked for. "_Diffindo_!" Her mouth widened slightly in surprise, as she had not expected for him to actually heed her advice. She quickly flipped her wand in the air to redirect the spell, but she barely managed to deflect it away from her own body; unfortunately her reaction had been only a split second too late. A shot of pain pierced through her left arm, forcing her to bite down hard into her lower lip to not yelp out.

He had used the Severing Charm on her. The boy opposite her looked at her, eyes completely opened in shock at what he had done, fixated on the gush in her arm. Elana, who had regained her posture, pressed her uninjured hand against the wound; she felt her fingers soak in a warm and sticky liquid, making her glance down. _Blood_. "Did you just …" Of course Elana had goaded him into doing it, but he had actually hurt her enough to _bleed_. Eyes flashing in anger, the pureblood wizard recoiled in alarm. In a fluent and somewhat impatient movement, she whipped her wand at him with the incantation: "_Incarcerous_!"

Instantly wrapping the Gryffindor up in thick and strong ropes from the tip of the wand, she watched him fight for balance; but it did not take long before the black haired boy lay face down on the floor, tied up from top to toe. "_What_ exactly is going on here? What are you two doing?" Elana faced the professor, who had decided to finally join them. Merrythought's head snapped back and forth between the two first years, drawing the attention of everyone else in the class. But then she noticed the blood, slowly dripping down the first year's hand onto the ground below, where it gathered into a pool.

"Nothing we cannot handle, Professor." Elana answered politely. "We both mastered the Stunning Spell, so we decided to expand our harmless duel a little, just to cover some more spells in our curriculum." She felt her arm pulsate lightly, her head spinning at the loss of blood. Perhaps it would be a good idea if she went to the Hospital Wing soon; but her pride did not allow her to show that a small _scratch _would affect her – well, slightly severe scratch that is. Nor did she wish for the professor to get involved. This was a matter between her and Potter as she had been the one who started the fight.

"Clearly _harmless._" The woman answered, her voice laced with sarcasm. She easily undid the bonds binding the wizard on the floor; he stumbled back onto his feet, an apologetic look showed across his face as he stared at Elana. "Mr. Potter, why don't you walk Miss Fowl to the hospital wing? And meet me for detention this Saturday?"

"Yes, professor."

Elana briefly scanned over the crowd that had gathered around them, but then she trudged after the other out of the room. She flexed her fingers lightly, trying to assess the situation and the extent of her injuries. "I guess we both learned a valuable lesson today," she broke the tense silence; her eyes bore into the back of his neck as he stubbornly kept a distance between them. Elana admitted that she did feel slightly to blame for the other's punishment and felt bad for his dejected look.

"And what might that be?" He sneered.

"That even Gods can bleed," a wide grin spread across her face. Potter instantly froze in his tracks and turned; his face was contorted into something almost unreadable: Half in disbelief and half in amusement. But then he could not stop himself, a bubbling laughter filled the corridor as the Gryffindor wizard broke down; Elana raised an eyebrow at him. "That was not even funny," though she could not stop a smile from sneaking up on her.

But in the midst of their strange delight, an unusual feeling shot through her entire body and her eyes blackened out. Dots clouded her vision. Staggering at the sudden loss of balance, she tripped over and Potter barely managed to grab her. She felt her body press against his, his muscles strained as he tried to keep her up. "H–hey!" Her entire sleeve had been soaked in blood and crimson red drops trickled down her hand; she felt nauseous and dizzy. Anaemic. "Hang in there, I'll get you to the nurse." She struggled to focus, but her vision turned blurry.

"Please do not tell ... my brother." She whispered softly into his blazer.

Then she fainted.

* * *

Tom attentively noted how Avery stayed behind while the other Slytherin boys left. They always stuck together, almost inseparable no matter what time of the day, but now they did not even look at each other. With long strides, the wizard approached the last remaining classmate, eyes lingering for a short moment on the small puddle of blood on the floor. He was not worried Tom reprimanded himself, but a small flicker of anxiety surfaced lightly in the back of his mind. Fowl had helped him earlier and maybe he should repay the favour.

As he picked up his bag, it felt heavy in his arm, the large book about bloodlines weighing him down slightly along with the other books. "I almost feel like jinxing that _Potter_," Avery said out loud, and Tom was uncertain if it was directed to him or the pureblood was merely contemplating his thought out into the open. But then the wizard flinched unconsciously when he noticed the other first year; stumbling for words, he tried to explain himself as a minor blush swept across his cheeks and ears. "Slytherins should stick together, right? It is not that I care she is injured … But it was a Gryffindor attacking one from our house and all."

Tom responded with a low _hm_, not really certain how to answer and if he should at all. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, the two wizards left the classroom and entered the crowded corridor. Their last lesson for the day was Potions after a short break, but Tom and Avery headed directly to the dungeons; neither of them had anything else to do in the recess. "What is going on between you and Lestrange?" The questioned first year took a step backwards away from Tom, mouth parted almost like a goldfish as he tried to come up with an answer.

"What? Nothing! Why would you ask about something like that?" He tried defending himself yet failed rather miserably. But with that his eyes scurried over the witches and wizards around them, making sure no one was eavesdropping; then he heaved a long, almost painful, sigh. "It is Sebastian who stubbornly believes I am … doing something I shouldn't, but I am not. And he has made the others side with him." The chill of the dungeon seeped over them, finally coming to a halt in front of the locked entrance door; Avery turned to look at Tom in the dimly lit corridor. "At least you are on my side."

The black haired half-blood decided not to respond, especially as he had not really decided on where to stand in their petty argument – an argument he had no idea what was about. Truth be told, Tom really could not care any less than what he did. If the pureblood faction decided to split it would not have any effect on him; so there was no reason for him to get involved or take a stand. If anything, he cared more about the injured witch. The blood in his veins froze and he balled his hands into fists. He _cared_? His eyes turned cold. Tom Riddle did not care for some little girl, just because of a small amount of blood loss.

A silence fell over the two first years.

The Gryffindor boy arrived halfway through the Potions class and walked straight for the professor; everyone stared after him in curiosity of the Slytherin girl's condition. "I apologize for my tardiness, Professor Slughorn, but I was in the hospital wing with Miss Fowl." He quickly explained, somewhat out of breath. The reaction of the bulky potions teacher almost made Tom laugh, but he strained himself with a hand pressed against his mouth; it was clear Slughorn took the matter of an injury to one of his favourite students gravely.

But then Tom decided it was none of his business and, in stead of prying, he turned his attention back to the bubbling cauldron; the liquid had a brilliant, golden colour as it shimmered over the heat. It looked exactly as the Girding Potion described in _Magical Draughts and Potions_. It was _perfect_, just as it always was when Tom created something. "Well, go find your seat. Fielding can fill you in on the lesson you missed out on." His dark, almost black eyes trailed after the Gryffindor. The wizard's friends instantly gathered around him and listened intently to what he reported over the bubbling cauldron.

"Filthy," Avery spat affronted; he, too, was watching them over his own potion. "Using it as a topic of gossip, it is intolerable." Tom somewhat agreed, but not to the same degree; it was starting to become prominent exactly how much purebloods valued the pride of being part of Slytherin. If one student from another house talked bad about a single person, it would influence the rest of them. But then again, he glanced towards Avery from the corner of an eye, perhaps it was not only since Fowl was a part of the same house.

"Wish to pay Fowl a visit after class is over?"

He felt satisfied as Avery sputtered and flushed madly once more. It was certainly, without a doubt, not only because he stood up for a fellow Slytherin. Lestrange glared at them both from another table, then whispered in Mulciber's ear. Tom returned their gazes unwaveringly: he had not sided with Avery, but if they wished to come to a rash conclusion like that, then so be it.

Perhas it would even become interesting.

* * *

Elana gave the boy a blank, indifferent stare, but the feelings of her body was in turmoil. The most prominent emotion was _anger_. "What are you doing here?" The Hospital Wing was bathed in a faint, golden glow from the windows; the witch had recovered easily after an hour of sleep and a spoonful of medicine, which had tasted beyond horrible. Her mouth felt sour just thinking about it. Running a hand through her already ruffled hair, she shifted under the white bed sheets and leaned back against the pillow. "If you feel obliged to pay me a visit due to what happened, then _please_, do not."

He corrected his red and gold tie, while doing his best to avoid her gaze. His face had contorted into what looked like an apologetic puppy and he reallocated himself on the chair, slightly uncomfortable; Potter clearly felt remorse for his actions. Elana truthfully felt like punching him. "I just came to check up on you, since that's the least I can do … I _did_ hit you with a spell."

"As you can see, I am perfectly fine," she lifted her healed arm and flexed her hand easily. There was no signs left of the previous injury except a thin, white scar that was healing up nicely. In a few hours it would be completely gone. "And it was I that made you attack me in the first place, hence I am equally to blame. But with that said I would almost suggest you leave soon, before I have recovered to once more be capable of hexing you." She then retorted, giving him a last glare before she turned her face towards the ceiling. "Idiot."

"What was that?"

"Do not start again."

"_You_ started!"

Opening her mouth to argue back, she paused at the sound of footsteps. Her eyes narrowed down on the two first year wizards; what was Avery and Riddle doing in the Hospital Wing? "Just what I need," Elana muttered under her breath. She straightened up to greet them. "What brings you two here?" The black haired half-blood had an unusual expression spread across his features, compared to his typical, indifferent façade; they simultaneously heaved a sigh as the second Slytherin boy stared at Potter.

"What is _he_ doing here?"

"He is my guest, Mr. Avery, so hush now." Elana ordered tiredly. She would not have been surprised if her brother had walked in just then, just so things could not get any worse; but luckily she had made sure neither Potter nor the school nurse had passed the news on to Elliot. "Rather, what about _you_? You are not here as a guest." Avery, who seemed frozen on his way to attack the Gryffindor, turned to look at her. The two purebloods stared each other down.

"Well, excuse me for worrying!" He tried defending himself, but, Elana noticed, as soon as he had said it Avery recoiled. He seemed to regret what he had said. Elana's eyebrow arched up, though she was well aware as to _why_. "I mean– Tom wanted to see you." His hand pointed towards the third Slytherin in the Hospital Wing, making the half-blood react just as she had. An eyebrow scurried up. "So I merely came along."

"I see," but then a faint smirk appeared across her lips. "How is Lestrange?" Elana should _really_ learn her lesson soon; at the taunting remark about the other pureblood, Avery charged right at her to, most likely, perform unspeakable horrors on the witch; but Potter managed to react in time, tackling him halfway over the bed. She, in her surprise, suddenly found her arms flail around in the air as her support had vanished; the two struggling boys overtook the bed and forced her out. With a large crash, as she managed to drag a bed stand with her in the fall, Elana found herself on the floor, completely tangled up in the bed sheets.

The nurse barged out from her small, private room: fixing her hair with a hairpin, she waved her wand to separate the two and screeched something about _"Not in here, you don't!"_. Elana's head popped up from the floor, having shaken of the white sheets, and with eyes flashing dangerously. "Peter Avery, you are _dead_!" All while the poor nurse tried to break apart the now _three_ first years, Tom stood at the sideline with an eyebrow raised.

"Unbelievable," he mumbled softly at the scene.

Elana smoothed out her skirt and cleared her throat. After having been scolded by a heavily huffing woman, they all found themselves sitting down politely with a safe distance between each other. A strained tension hung in the air. Potter dabbed his lower lip with a cloth to soak up the blood, slowly oozing out of a minor rift; Avery merely grumbled with his arms crossed. "That, I take it, would be a momentary lapse of sanity."

"You should stop aggravating people that much."

"It was merely a question of where Lestrange was."

"Shut up," Avery hissed.


	11. Chapter XI

All of you guys who reviewed actually made me go "Oh my god, oh my god!" quite a few times, which might just have spooked out my parents... and myself, somewhere deep down in the bottom of my heart. But thank you! Really, I'm so happy this story is well received. I hope I can keep up my fast updates: Only two weeks left of high school and my final exams start. Though I'm sure we can work something out so I can still update quickly. And no... the reviews did not make me do a victory pose. No... NO! Don't look at me like that, I really didn't...

Okay, fine, I did. A small one.

Once more, thank you!

Oh, and I never did get to celebrate the 10th chapter last time... so woo, 11th! And, of course, I would also like to apologize for my very slow updates here lately. I have not left you all behind, fear not! I just got caught up in "socializing", ugh... the horror. So had to get dragged through an amusement park, a concert (with Roger Waters, so that's okay!), a friend's birthday - while at the same time I had HOMEWORK. So now I currently have one week left of high school and then my final exams start, therefore I unfortunately have a feeling that I will have to update less frequently for now. Until holiday at least. At least I made this chapter quite long to make up for my slow writing and all ...

But we'll see.

And an advice to you all: On Mother's Day... Don't do the following:

"And, even after I moved out from home, I always sent flowers to my mom on Mother's Day." My own mother told my brother and I wisely. And what do I respond, before thinking?

"Yeah, well... That's because you love your mom."

I got killed (deserved it too, I might add - I love my mother more than anything, but I still said it as a joke). But my dad laughed at least ... He died, too. Don't say it while she's standing with a butcher knife either, unless you're suicidal. It's retarted and insensitive!

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter XI

* * *

The Entrance was bustling at the many third years and up, gathered for the year's first Hogsmeade trip. Elana could see them gather from inside the Great Hall, where she was eating her breakfast. A cold wind seeped in through the open doors and she pulled her school robes closer around her body; November had arrived all of a sudden, snowstorms in its wake and so the usually green grounds around Hogwarts had been covered in a faint, white blanket. "Won't they close the doors soon? It's freezing!" Newell complained next to the pureblood witch.

Elana eyed her from the corner of an eye, silently wondering when the other girl had arrived. "If you have to complain then complain about the first year that tried to sneak out," she responded, fidgeting with her fork as she looked towards the Slytherin boys. Avery was grumbling as always but it had been his own fault. "To be stupid enough to not think he would be caught." The wizard shot her a glare, but she merely raised an eyebrow.

A couple of weeks had passes since she had gotten into the fight in the hospital wing, yet the situation between Avery and the other purebloods had not eased up; they still ignored each other, making the Slytherin first years even more divided than before. There were the four Slytherin girls, where Elana had still not spoken to two of them; then there was Elana herself, who preferred to be left alone. "Shut up, Fowl." He growled.

She smiled at him politely, eyes scanning over the two boys. Riddle and Avery. Even though half the classes passed with Avery and Lestrange insulting each other, the half-blood never interfered or joined in. The witch watched him thoughtfully. He was just like her. "Careful, Avery, or I might _accidently _curse you." Elana warned him. Why she had woken up early, although there were no classes in the weekend, was beyond her comprehension. Suppressing a yawn, the witch came to her feet and exited the Great Hall; she might as well get something constructive out of the day now she was up.

Trying to force her way through the crowd, she was pushed back and forth by the much older students. A couple of Gryffindor boys intentionally tried to trip her, both let out cackles as Elana barely managed to dodge the outstretched foot below her own; she glared up at them through her black hair. "Watch out, little snake or you might get injured." One of them mocked and sneered. Keeping her head held high, she marched past them without responding; but then she suddenly found an arm around her shoulders and she was turned around once more.

Surprised, she glanced up at the older Slytherin. Her brother's eyes were hard, making her silently wonder how much he had seen. "Brother …?" Elana wished to pull away when they stopped at the Gryffindors, not wanting to get caught up in anything. But Elliot would of course not let it slip. The two red and gold clad students were sixth years, somewhat making them feel superior even though they were face to face with the Fowl heir. One, a big, muscular wizard, smirked widely as he eyed Elliot.

"Well, well! It seems the big snake is watching out for the little one. How adorable," they let out a loud, hearty laughter and quickly started to draw attention. Elana flinched slightly under her brother's arm, her prideful side slowly taking over; but then she noticed how the older Fowl merely kept up a polite smile. His cool and calm composure ticked off the other wizard, who let out an annoyed click of his tongue before crossing his arms across his broad chest.

She kept silent, but her hand dug down into the pocket for her wand; even though the two Gryffindors were five years older than her, she would not tolerate their mockery much longer. Yet she suddenly felt her right shoulder squeezed lightly, her brother clearly warning her not to act. "Now, you should not act as such a _sour looser_, Mr. Potter." Elliot responded calmly. "Just because you lost in the last Quidditch match, you should act as what is expected of your family."

Elana's brow furrowed slightly as she once more eyed the wizard. It was true; he resembled the young Tyler Potter, with the dark black hair, uncontrollably sticking up in all directions, and just as big a hate towards the Fowls. A smirk spread across her face. _Interesting._ "Shut up, Fowl!" Potter growled and took a step forward. She felt her fingers grip hard around her wand, but then her eyes flickered to the side at what approached.

"I hope you will apologize to my sister, Mr. Potter."

Elliot kept his smile in place, making the two siblings look quite alike; but the sixth year did not seem disheartened by their indifference and apathy. He in stead stepped forward so that only a few inches were between the two boys' faces, staring her brother straight in the eye. "You clearly hexed Jones so he didn't get the Snitch in time, filthy Slytherins. I'm glad your Seeker got crushed like he did. Bloody deserved it." The pang of annoyance in the pit of her stomach nearly made her punch the older boy, but before she had a chance to react, a voice cut through the tense silence.

"Easy now, boys." Slughorn appeared just as expected; the elderly professor had noticed something was wrong, finally intervening. Elana could easily see he preferred her brother and herself, the head of house quickly giving them a bright smile before looking towards the Gryffindor boy. "Potter, kicking up a fuss again I see?" Slughorn ignored the boy's protests and in stead shook his head in disappointment. "Your mother was one of my best students … And a Slytherin too," he sounded almost accusing, making Potter's mouth open and close in a loss of words.

"It is nothing, Sir." Her brother spoke up to draw attention away from the other boy. Slughorn turned his plump face towards the two Fowls, his expression changing drastically. The professor shooed away the Gryffindor, completely ignoring the appalled look in the other's eyes. "We merely had a minor disagreement that is all." Elana shifted her weight lightly back and forth on her feet, slightly rolling her shoulders as her brother finally released her.

The Head of House let out a chuckle. "No harm I guess," he suddenly trailed off in thought, tapping a chubby finger against his chin. A faint smell of bourbon emitted from his emerald green robes, his straw blonde hair curling slightly around his ears. There was a sparkle deep down in his eyes; Elana was all too familiar with it from classes whenever a student perked his attention in Potions. "Now that I have both of you here, I would enjoy invite you to a small, private Christmas Party on the 20th of December."

"We would happily join," her brother answered for both of them.

* * *

Tom watched the snow splash over an invisible barrier, quite close to his face but due to the shield spell he was untouched; he raised an eyebrow while slowly turning a page in the History of Magic textbook. A thick layer of snow covered the grounds and some of the younger students had ventured out to play. Magically enhanced snowballs flew back and forth in a fierce duel between Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, each house having built a minor fort in defence against the endless attacks.

The magically conjured flame hovered by his side, keeping him warm against the chilling wind and the coldness of the frozen air. His book bag was open next to him, a piece of folded paper crumbled halfway down and rustled lightly in the breeze. _Christmas holiday_ … When he had heard the news of almost everyone returning home for Christmas celebrations, Tom felt somewhat mad; there was no way he would return to Wool's Orphanage unless he absolutely had to. He would _not_ go back to that horrible place even if it would kill him.

So Tom had decided to spent his Christmas at Hogwarts and, much to his delight, none of the other Slytherin boys would join him. Two weeks without their constant nagging and petty arguments. So it would be only him; all alone in the first year dorms, in complete silence and with indefinite time at hand, to peacefully get work done. He needed it. But, before he was capable of enjoying the complete solitude, he had to get over the invitation from a certain professor.

He shielded his eyes as a sudden cool beam of sunlight reflected against the white snow, securing the emerald scarf around his neck as it was about to blow off. "What an odd place to read," a voice spoke up and he glanced up. The witch smiled politely at him, her hands clasped behind her back and she inclined forward slightly in curiosity. Her eyes skimmed the text of his book, trying to make out the subject. "Do you not feel cold?"

With a flicker of her wand, the pureblood cleared a spot from snow before taking a seat next to him against the castle wall. Fowl pulled her legs up until she was able to rest her chin against her knees, eyes overlooking the students tumbling around in play. "No," he answered, turning a page. She hummed lowly in response, poking the faint blue orb of flames with her wand.

With a flicker of her wand, the pureblood cleared a spot from snow before taking a seat next to him against the castle wall. Fowl pulled her legs up until she was able to rest her chin against her knees, eyes overlooking the students tumbling around in play. "No," he answered, turning a page. She hummed lowly in response, poking the faint blue orb of flames with her wand. A sudden sound of rustling paper forced him to look at her once more; Fowl had, without permission, taken the Holiday admission papers from his bag. "What are you doing?" Tom asked unemotionally, yet wished to rip it from her hands.

"You plant to return home over the holiday?" She asked, apparently trying to start a conversation. Tom muttered a _no_ in return, but kept his attention focused onto the book in his lap. A loud shriek echoed over the grounds as a couple of Hufflepuff boys had cornered a girl, showering her with snowballs until she buckled over in laughter. "How mature," the witch commented in a hollow tone. But then she leaned back against the wall for support, face turned towards the grey sky above. "How about the Slug Club, you will join?"

Tom raised an eyebrow. The _what_? It was a peculiar expression and he had never heard of the club before. Yet he had a feeling of _who _was involved. Horace Slughorn. And if they were talking about the same question, then he knew the answer: "Yes," it would be completely idiotic not to participate in the Christmas Party; first of all he would be able to deepen his relationship with the Potions Professor but perhaps meet several influential people, who might just be of use to him in the future. "And you?"

"Of course," Elana said. "Not like I have a choice …" Her last words barely left her lips, but Tom heard it quite clearly.

* * *

Tom closed the last button before using his wand to fix the tie. The dress robes resembled the Muggle version quite a lot, which had come to his attention when he pulled it out from his trunk; it was completely black except for the white shirt and emerald, silver tie secured around his neck. Avery shuffled around somewhere behind him, letting out curses once in a while just to draw attention to himself; there were only one day left before everyone would leave for Christmas holidays, and so the four Slytherin purebloods were still lingering around.

They had all been invited for the party which made the mood in the dorm rather intense. But, while Tom overlooked the floor for his newly polished shoes, he heard the door open and get slammed shut once more; the sound reverberated slightly in the room and stillness fell over the two last wizards. But Avery suddenly broke the tense silence: "Never thought they would leave." Tom summoned the shoes from below his bed, somewhat wondering how they got down there; quickly putting them on, he turned to look at the pureblood.

Avery's dress robes were exactly like his own, yet seemed more modern and less _used_. Tom suppressed a scowl: there was nothing he could do about it. His parents had left him no money and he had to make do with the little the school actually donated. "Ready?" The other nodded and they finally headed out. When they arrived down in the common room, the two first years were met with bustling voices and laughter; it seemed like Slughorn had invited quite a few from the Slytherin house.

Without pausing at the other formally dressed students, they instantly headed out the entrance into the chilly dungeon corridor; the party was held in one of the offices on the sixth floor, as Slughorn's own would be far too cramped compared to the guest list. And so they began climbing several flights of stairs, passing invited students from other houses; some seemed to look forward to it, while others had an air of impatience just as Tom. Because he – more than anything – just wanted to get it over with.

When they finally entered the highly illuminated office, the half-blood noticed how it was close to filled already. The sides were lined with tables, decorated with tiny, artificial Christmas trees, golden glitter and snow; most of the seats were occupied by elderly wizards and witches, indulged in conversation. Stars, hanging down from the ceiling, sparkled brightly from the lit candles as they hovered through the air. Most of the windows were hidden behind velvet drapes in red and green, but he spotted the silvery moon through a small crack.

He nodded courteously at a familiar professor, who brushed past them in a hurry. He barely recognized anyone, yet he repressed the urge to turn around and walk back and followed Avery further into the room. The sound of music reached his ears over the noise, but as he looked around he could not see where it came from; but a sudden shock drove through him as a hand suddenly rested on his shoulder. "There you are, Tom!" The merry voice of Horace Slughorn greeted him; the professor turned the young boy around so they came face to face. "And you brought Avery, excellent!"

"Merry Christmas, Sir." Tom greeted politely, forcing his beating heart to calm down and the shock to subdue. As he took in the features of the elderly professor, it was clear Slughorn had already gotten quite a few drinks; his cheeks were flushed and he wobbled back and forth slightly on his feet. But the black haired boy did his best not to recoil, even though the breath, brushing against him, was downright horrible. "It is amazing what you have done to this place," he commended.

"Ah, yes, yes, it was quite the work! The wine is even Elf-made and I had it imported from France. Oh yes …" The Head of House steered dangerously close towards the two first years, both having a slight fear he would suddenly tumble over and take them down with him. "But enough of that, Tom, I have someone you should meet!" With a hand still firmly secured on his shoulder, the wizard had no choice but to follow the tipsy professor through the crowd; people brushed past him from all sides, meeting up with old acquaintances and colleagues. "This is Oswald Beamish, an old friend of mine!"

Tom smiled politely at the old man, sitting somewhat by himself at a table where he was staring thoughtfully down into a yellow liquid. "Nice to meet you, Sir, I am Tom Riddle." Beamish shifted lightly, pushing a pair of glasses up to the brink of his nose; but then he watched the two Slytherins with a pair of striking blue eyes. Slughorn had seemed to wobble off once more, leaving the three alone together. The sudden introduction had forced the gears in Tom's brain to work overtime, trying to come up with a topic to talk about before it got emberrassing.

_Oswald Beamish_ rang a bell, yet he could not remember from _where_. In what class had he heard it? In what book? Luckily Avery seemed to come to his rescue. For once the pureblood was of some use; unfortunately it did not seem like he held much love for the old man. "Weren't you the famous proponent of Goblin rights?" At his words, it suddenly dawned on Tom. He felt like hexing his Potions professor for introducing a pureblood to the guest; after several Goblin rebellions over the years, having been subdued by the influential wizarding families, the race was not quite popular among the purebloods.

The night had just gotten worse.

* * *

Tom had managed to escape the two before the argument had really started. Now he wandered aimlessly around between the crowd, wondering if he should get something to eat, find someone he recognized or just go back to the common room. He felt like he was absolutely wasting his time. Unfortunately, when he finally spotted someone familiar, he was not filled with a sense of positivity; no, it was the complete opposite.

The Fowls had decided to make an appearance.

With an air of superiority, the fifth year Slytherin divided the crowd without much trouble; his dark blue eyes scanning over the gathered, while his two closest friends followed behind, immersed in conversation. And there she was, walking furthest behind; her face held even less emotion compared to usual, much to his surprise. Tom approached carefully, not wishing to be spotted by any of them; his attention fixated on Elana's blank expression. She seemed bored already. The newly arrived were instantly flocked, rendering the boy speechless once more. The Fowl family really was_ coveted_.

He grabbed a glass from a nearby plate, levitating past him in midair, not caring what it contained. Tom felt annoyed once more, just as he always did when they were around. The feeling of wanting to crush something, everything, was bigger than ever; he felt insignificant as he overlooked the gathered wizards and witches. Taking a sip of the drink, he felt it burn his throat. But he did not care, nothing mattered. Tom did not even bother to show surprise as a figure cut through the assembled; her dark, moss green dress went just past her ankles and floated around lightly as she moved. She corrected a strap over her left shoulder before briskly brushing a strand of black hair behind her ear.

Then Elana noticed him. Tom silently hoped she would not walk over, yet his prayers were not heard; her shoes clacked against the tile floor and she nodded shortly at him, before passing him in quick strides. The wizard turned his head slightly in wonder, glancing after the witch. He managed to see her vanish behind one of the drapes; the velvet curtain fluttered at the movement before falling still once more. His brow furrowed. What was she doing? His curiosity perked, Tom slowly, carefully, stepped closer and reached out a hand.

Pulling the curtain away, he saw the pureblood girl lean against the glass but her face was turned in his direction. She knew he would follow. "You better close it soon," the witch spoke, her voice soft. "Or have you forgotten my brother's warning?" Tom had not. He stepped into the secret niche, feeling the fabric brush against his arm as he let it drop; there was no explanation to his behaviour, yet he felt her company more worthy than any of the other guests'.

Elana turned her face towards the dark blue, almost black night on the other side of the window. There was not a single cloud in the sky; the stars sparkled, trying to match the silvery glow of the moon as it cascaded down onto the two first years. "Why are you hiding?" A smile appeared on her lips.

"Why do you care?"

"I do not," he responded with a faint scowl. Always the questions. "I just find your behaviour abnormal that is all." Tom rested against the brick wall, feeling the coldness of the stones seep through his dress robes. The air felt heavy in the small space between the window and the curtain, but he forced his breathing to stay calm and controlled. "Why are you hiding?" He repeated his earlier question, firmly, wanting to know the answer.

The smile on her lips reappeared. She took her time, slowly fidgeting with the front of her dress before folding her fingers in front of her lap. "Those kinds of people … I hate them." His almost black eyes narrowed slightly at her words, flickering towards the pureblood girl. "Pretentious and ingratiate. All they want is part of the fame. Who does not wish for their children to marry a _Fowl_? It is downright disgusting." Even though her words were filled with loathing, she managed to keep her voice calm and composed. Tom watched her in disbelief, yet at the same time he understood her feelings. "Sometimes I wish they would all vanish."

They were two of a kind.

Elana Fowl and Tom Riddle both _hated_ the world and the people around them.


	12. Chapter XII

I'm quite sad that I have to give away Wasabi ... And if anyone wonders "What or who is this 'Wasabi' person?", then it's a small budgerigar I found in the garden the other day. It was cold, trembling and wet from the rain and I just couldn't bear to watch it there. I knew it would most likely die on its own and, even though I did not really have the things to keep a bird, I managed to capture it by gently putting a towel over it. Took me an hour.

So for the last couple of days it has been staying with me in my room, waking me up far too early. It's quite a houdini too, everything I come home from school it is outside its cage. No idea how it does it. But anywho, I've bonded quite a lot with it already (I knew I shouldn't have named it), yet we cannot keep it here - or at least my parents doesn't believe that. So my mother is trying to find its owners, though that is highly unlikely ... and else a local pet shop has agreed to take it in.

But I just can't bear for it to go away. And it makes me so darn sad it's not even fun ... I liked the company, which I haven't really had since my two rabbits passed away. It's not that I'm trying to share my sobby stories with you all, I just felt I had to get it out and that's why this chapter is dedicated to Wasabi: even though I'll only share his company for a few more days most likely, I will forever treasure it - I loved taking care of you, my green bird who started clacking around at 6.00 AM.

For Wasabi Houdini Bob!

And thanks for the reviews of course! I'm sorry for being very slow with updates, but as I mentioned in chapter XI: exams. And a lot of them - I've so far managed to survive 4/7. Phew for that ... But I still have a lot more work, and these were the easy ones! And I've written more than 100 pages in word for this story, so yeah, thank you all for reading so far!

And the last thing: I really hate the fact that whenever there's a "guy likes girl who likes another guy"-manga I really love... the girl always ends up with the guy I'm NOT rooting for. WHY IS THAT? Does all those dim-witted, "Oh I love you so much, why can't you see it?", bambi-eyed, hormone controlled teenagers act so differently from me? Is it my taste that's something wrong with?

It's me, isn't it? I knew it ...

Just because I prefer my guys blonde.

People have no taste in men, seriously ...

This is a (short) chapter with a lot of talk, so hope me finally updating won't turn completely dull and boring and end up in everyone fleeing to never return... That would just be horrible. Enough talk! CHAPTER! GO!

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter XII

* * *

Tom felt somewhat uncomfortable as he stood next to the pureblood witch. The way they resembled each other was almost scary, Elana was a female version of himself. With a creaking sound, the window gave in slightly from a gush of wind from the outside, large flakes of snow fell from the sky. It had become colder in the office. A new Christmas song started playing and tuned out most of the voices from the other side of the curtain. "Well," the witch turned to look at him, her usual smile in place. "That is just how the world is."

A clattering sound erupted from the other side of the curtain, quickly followed by an outburst of anger. The Slytherin's gaze lingered briefly on the girl, but then he brushed past the drapes and stepped out into the lit room. Tom looked back and forth at the wizards and witches gathered; their attention turned towards a group of men, deeply involved in an argument. "After _three _goblin wars you _still _think they deserve rights?" A remarkably thin wizard almost shouted, fumbling with a pair of spectacles as they nearly fell down his nose. "That is unheard of!"

Clearly having an idea what the discussion was about, his eyes flickered towards his classmate. Avery had walked over, stalking past the gathered group as he had noticed Tom appearing once more. "I did not expect for it to turn into such a big _problem_," the pureblood chuckled and ran a hand through his black hair. His eyes sparkled in amusement at his work, seemingly proud. "Where were you?" Tom pressed his own lips together and created a thin, almost white, line.

"He was with me," a voice cut through over the voices, the volume becoming louder and louder. Elana paused next to the two boys as she crossed her arms in front of her chest; she watched the adults dignified. "And you obviously have something against that, as usual. Am I correct, Mr. Avery?" Tom silently watched the two purebloods: the boy clearly did disagree, not fond of them interacting with each other. The witch on the other hand stared ahead indifferently.

"Can you blame me?" He retorted sourly. "You always have an ulterior motive, I highly doubt today is any different." The witch chuckled, while Tom silently prayed for patience: it was always the same with those pureblood Slytherins. They never ceased to bicker. "But _what_ exactly you are up to … I wonder?" Fowl half smirked as she mused his words. The half-blood by their side did exactly the same, silently pondering what she was up to.

As he began feeling bored with the company and the entire party, he swiftly grabbed another goblet from a levitating tray. "We were only figuring out a plot to get rid of you, Mr. Avery. That is all." Staring into the clear liquid, Tom slung the contents around and watched it swirl against the glass; deep in thought, he tuned out the two purebloods' dispute. The sounds around him became muffled, almost as if he was under water and Tom somewhat relaxed: all the voices, loud and irritating, were getting on his nerves.

But, as he felt cold fingers brush against the skin of his hands, he was painfully dragged back into reality. Astonished and taken aback, he stared at the pureblood: Fowl continued smiling, but her eyes had narrowed and she seemed almost rigid. Tom glanced from the glass in her hand then to his own fingers, frozen as if he was still holding onto the goblet; then he made eye contact with Avery, who merely shrugged in return. "Mr. Fowl, this way here if you please! There is a student you absolutely _must _meet!" The cheering voice of Slughorn boomed across the gathered crowd, the plump professor urged his guests forward with a wild hand gesture.

As Tom watched them approach, he felt the girl tense drastically next to him. Without a doubt, he had done the exact same: both the first years knew how much trouble they were in. The now sober Head of House was about to introduce _Tom Riddle_, the wonderfully skilled potion brewer and star of the first years. "Avery," the witch hissed through gritted teeth, making the boy flinch in surprise. "You have ten seconds to push me."

Utmost speechless, the pureblood did not know how to react. His mouth opened and closed, trying to word his astonishment; Tom on the other hand searched his mind for a way to escape out of their pinch, just as she was. But in that instant, at that critical moment, he was completely blank for ideas. The professor strode ahead, arms spread out as if to embrace the first years and with three Slytherin students trailing behind.

Tom briefly made eye contact with the witch's brother, the latter watching him intently and deep in thought. Though, deep down, there was a warning tint, almost telling Tom to run away while there was still time. But he would not: he would not back down. If they were discovered, then so be it. "I just have to do everything _myself_," the girl muttered and took a step forward, quickly forcing a polite smile to emerge. The dark green dress swished slightly after her feet. "Good evening, Sir. I do not think I had the chance to greet you tonight, unfortunately. I apologize."

* * *

Elana beamed a smile at Slughorn, curtly nodding at the others behind him. "Now, now! It can not be helped when you are so popular; I have you in classes, so of course they flock you while they can." He chuckled lightly at his own wittiness, sending a bright grin at one of his honour students. She had hoped to direct his attention elsewhere, just so the two first years had enough time to escape: if only they had made use of the opportunity. They had not. Suppressing a sigh, she sidestepped and allowed passage for the older wizards.

The pureblood tightly gripped the goblet in her hands, suddenly reminded of the cold glass. She had borrowed it from Riddle as a last resort; Elana had hoped it had not been needed, but unfortunately, it seemed like there was no other choice. Loosening her hold, she felt it slip through her hands and shortly after the sound of glass shattering rung clearly in the room; quickly putting on an appropriate mask, the witch glanced down onto the floor.

"Oh, dear." When Slughorn luckily returned to her side, she forced herself not to smirk in victory. In stead she took a step back away from the splintered glass. "I am really sorry, Sir. It suddenly slipped." It turned out to be an even bigger success once she noticed her stained dress, a large spot having spread across the end of her skirt; the potions professor clicked his tongue in pity at the ruined fabric. Her eyes flickered from the Slytherins around her, contemplating what to do next in order to get them away from Riddle.

Unfortunately, she never did get a chance to as Gamp for once acted gallant. Such impeccable timing. The fifth year swished his wand carelessly at the shattered glass on the floor, the small pool gathered from the drink and her dress. She glanced down with an almost invisible scowl, watching as the mess was cleared again. "There, can't be that hard." The pureblood muttered exasperated with a sigh. Elana forced a smile that rather turned out as a frown; her eyes wavered about for another possible option.

At that point, _anything_ would be fine. Elana stared Riddle straight in the eye, her fists clenched by her sides as she silently hoped he had come up with anything. Slughorn came to a halt in front of the two Slytherin first years. "How is the party, boys?" The witch had gained a bit more time to work with, seeing as the professor had started a conversation first. Elana brushed a strand of hair away from her face, eyes falling onto her older brother as she paused next to him.

"It is quite interesting, Sir." Riddle answered with a slightly strained voice. An awkward silence settled over the gathered, but Slughorn seemed absolutely oblivious to the situation; he chuckled lightly and patted the first year wizard on the shoulder. But then Elana finally saw their way out when a loud, familiar voice reaching her from across the room. She turned her gaze sideways. A smirk spread across the witch's lips.

There would be no way for her brother to ignore _that_. As she reached out a hand, she gently tugged Elliot's sleeve to get his attention, forcing the older boy to look down at her. His eyebrow was raised lightly, somewhat impatiently at her behaviour; but he still leaned down towards her so Elana could whisper in his ear. Her brother stiffened at her words before straightening up once more, a grim look spread across his face.

"Excuse us for a minute, Professor, an urgent matter just appeared." With a short nod at the gathered, Elliot turned and strode off quickly; Elana glanced after her brother before creating eye contact with Riddle. At least he could handle it from here, she hoped. There was still Gamp, who had been present in the hallway, but he would most likely have forgotten about the incident as it was; the witch felt at ease, thankful that the Gryffindor was so loudmouthed. Else she would never have spotted him in the crowd. She curtly nodded before catching up with her brother.

"Forgive me for not telling you earlier," she spoke lowly, the two siblings passing over the floor in and out between the adult wizards and witches. His face held no emotions, but Elana knew her brother all too well. "I believed I could handle it on my own." It was not like she felt pity or remorse for having sacrificed Potter, but when they came face to face with the two Gryffindors she silently apologized in her mind.

Rather him than her.

* * *

A rather uncomfortable silence had spread across the Slytherins, no one able to break the ice after the Fowl siblings had left. The Head of House seemed uncertain whether to act insulted by their leave or what, but then he cleared his throat with a chuckle. "Selwyn! My boy, have you met Mr. Riddle yet?" Tom's brow furrowed slightly but then he forced a smile, taking the outstretched hand of the fifth year; he felt wary of the older boy. Even more than what he did with the Fowl, perhaps.

"A pleasure," Selwyn greeted before loosening his grip. Tom noticed how the wizard did not even bother to smile, but clearly showed his hostility. "I assume you are taking good care of Elana, Mr. Riddle?" Tom's eyes narrowed into thin slits. No, he did not like him one bit. Selwyn watched him calculatingly; but the half-blood diverted his gaze quickly as the Professor fidgeted about next to them before, too, excused himself.

Once more, the tense silence fell over the remaining four wizards. Avery shifted tensely at Tom's side, but he ignored his classmate and only stared at the pureblood in front of him. "He finally left," the half-blood scanned the other fifth year attentively, having forgotten he was there too. He felt small and almost insignificant compared to the much older Slytherins, towering up above him, but he would not back down in any way even if they would threaten him. And they could not possible act in the middle of a party.

"He is the one?"

"Yes."

With a hand running through his hair, Selwyn watched Tom thoughtfully. "I see," he spoke lowly, his brow furrowed slightly. Flickers of movement passed behind as a few, somewhat tipsy, wizards and witches had overtaken the dance floor, swirling back and forth; the music had been turned up and the lights dimmed. Even though it was an unbeneficial situation, Tom felt slightly fuzzy and his head started spinning slightly, a headache slowly creeping up on him; silently cursing himself, he knew he should never had touched the drink. He would not be able to think clearly much longer. "Albert, if you please."

The second pureblood heaved a sigh. "Fine," looking rather discontent, the well-build Slytherin Beater dragged Avery off with an arm around his neck in a headlock; the younger had a perplexed and almost terrified facial expression as he was swept away. "Let's have a chat, just you and me. Nothing important!" Gamp seemed to be looking forward to their _talk_. The two purebloods vanished in the crowd of dancing people.

"Now that that is taken care of let us start from the beginning, once more." Tom's head was pounding loudly. He felt nauseous. But he forced himself not to be affected by the alcohol and glared directly back at Selwyn, yet the latter had suddenly resorted to _smiling_. Taken aback, the half-blood watched speechless. "Mr. Riddle," the words were like a wakeup call, yanking him back into reality. Almost as if he had plunged into ice cold water. There was no time to feel sick. He had to focus. _Focus_. The pureblood in front of him did not know him as _Peter Avery_.

He forced a smile. "Can I be of assistance?"

"Yes, actually." Selwyn loomed over him, casting a faint shadow across the younger's face. The polite, nearly sweet, smile was still in place but he was unable to hide the threatening aura, seeping up from all over his body. "Unlucky for you I know Mr. Avery from a while back, so when I was told to watch out for him it came as almost a surprise. Figuring Elana was up to no good as always I have kept quiet about this," the music thundered in his head and his vision turned blurry, but Tom would not yield. Not to something like that. "I have no imminent plans to share this with Elliot, unless of course you do something _idiotic_."

"And _why_ are you telling me this if you do not intend to act upon it?"

"Oh, I merely wish to make sure she does not get into trouble. She is my friend's sister after all, it is my duty to watch out for her. As a final warning though, you should be more careful not to be seen associating in public. He is quite observant, but I am sure you know of this." Stiffening completely, Tom felt the pressure of the pureblood's hand weighing down on his shoulder; with the _friendly_ pat, the older student made notion to leave. As Selwyn turned, he spoke up a final time and the words sent shivers down Tom's spine. "It would be terrible if he discovered his sister with a _half-blood_."

He felt downright sick. Cold sweat trickled down his forehead as he in absolute shock watched the pureblood's retreating back. Tom had underestimated them. "Damn it …" How could he have been so _stupid_? Thinking Fowl was the only _real_challenge, he had been so wrong. The brother would be kept in place by Elana, but it seemed neither of them had taken his friends into their calculations. Selwyn was a far greater threat. It could all go horribly wrong, their lies – no, _her_ lies – could be discovered. And the one who would suffer most from the consequences would be him.

The _half-blood_.

Tom rubbed the brink of his nose slowly, trying to soothe the sickening headache. Calm down. He had to calm down and think it through; there was still hope. They had not been discovered yet and there was no reason to believe they would be at all. He just had to think it through. Look at all the options, come up with a plan and then there would be no problems whatsoever. He could handle it. Yes. "What the _hell_ was that all about, Tom?" A voice broke the young wizard's concentration and he turned to stare at Avery.

The pureblood was fuming, bead red and breathing heavily as he marched over. "What do you mean?" Tom responded coolly, slightly regaining his posture. His will power had suppressed the uneasiness for now, and it would continue doing so until he was back in the dormitories; so now the only thing he should focus on was a proper excuse. The pureblood could become an obstacle unless dealth with as soon as possible. Now.

"What I mean? Oh, I do not know … Perhaps the fact I just got _dragged_ away by one of Fowl's _goons_? You are up to something and it seems like I am a part of it!" Tom flinched inwardly at the wizard's rage, eyes flickering towards the others around them. Did he have to be that _loud_? "If you have gotten me into something involving _those_, then, _please_, do tell. I need to know if I should expect anything and I am sure you can do at least that for me." Tom had no intentions of telling Avery _anything_ at all, but as the pureblood vented his anger the halfb-lood contemplated whether to let him in at least a bit. But the question was how much could he tell?

"You are not involved," he finally answered. He kept his voice at a suitable level, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. It should be easy to manipulate Avery into a sense of security; he just had to use the right words. "Mr. Selwyn merely wished for a private conversation with me, which he could not with you there. Do not worry." At his words, he received a sceptical look, full of doubt but deep down there was a slight wavering of trust. Avery saw Tom as a friend and how easy that made it for the half-blood to control the wizard.

"Well," Avery huffed lightly, almost pouting. "It is obviously involving _her_, so I advice for you to just stop while you still can. Nothing good comes out of being near her. Trust me, I know." Tom smiled politely, silently savouring the taste of victory. Problem solved. If only he had not had the thundering headache and so many other problems, he would have stumbled over the pureblood's last words. But he did not. He was too fixated on having gotten out of the pending danger.


	13. Chapter XIII

An awesome band I would like to promote now I'm at it: "Broken Iris", I especially love _Where Butterflies Never Die_. I suggest you go listen to it! It's awesome. And with that I won't chit chat any longer this time, even though all of you have probably discovered I'm a bit of a blabber mouth. Teehee... I'm just lonely. Except for the fact I really dislike what they did to the ... uhm, personal account stuff, the layout. It's so hard to figure out and makes my screen really small!

I changed my mind. I hate it!

But exams are over so I have summer holiday now - where I have to travel to England with a friend, Scotland with my parents and Japan if possible, with, well, me. And yes, I am a sad person so I travel alone! Just because no one wanted to go with me... Bastards all of them! Well, a friend wanted to join but she has to meet her family in China. Boo. Some may have noticed this, but I have not been quite frequent in my updates lately - several reasons as to why, which I do not wish to bore you all with - though, if you suddenly find yourself asking the question "where the heck did she go?", then please to pop by my profile. I usually write something there, just so you know I'm alive and kicking somewhere.

I actually posted this chapter yesterday, but then I looked at it and found it way too short. After having been gone for so long I thought I'd at least give you a somewhat long chapter. You deserve it!

Oh, and best quote ever:

"Where do you see yourself in 15 years?"

"Well, I see myself being older."

Pwned!

Sorry for the wait (I'll make next chapter longer, I promise), please enjoy chapter XIII!

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter XIII

* * *

With the sound of hushed voices reaching their ears through the oaken door, Tom paused slightly as his hand lingered thoughtfully on the door knob. His head was still spinning and he felt every limb of his body heaving him down; the black haired boy needed sleep before he would fall over. "What are you-" Avery asked from behind in the darkness, but the pureblood was quickly silenced. Laughter reached them and Tom's brow furrowed, only making out a few words. But then, rustling through his robes, he pulled out his wand and pointed it towards the door.

The incantation was muttered lowly under his breath, making sure the other Slytherins would not hear them. "He will freak out when he sees this!" A roar of laughter was heard, this time the sound amplified from the spell; Lestrange apparently found something highly amusing, but with solid wood separating the two sides they were unable to see what was happening. "That idiot has always been crept out by spiders."

Tom did not have to spent too long to understand the situation. _That idiot_ was without a doubt Avery, who had already started fuming in anger. Quickly noticing how the pureblood was ready to kick down the door, the half-blood straightened up to look Avery directly in the eye. "Do not act foolishly," he spoke calmly. "Cool down. Why not rather use this to your own advantage?" With a faint smirk spreading across his lips, Tom turned to face the door once more and pulled down the knob.

He had grown too tired of their petty arguments, creating hostility between the Slytherin first years. It was not part of his plan for them to continuously fight, but rather to unite them under _him _as a single, powerful group; at the same time the splintering headache did not help him much and at that point, in the middle of the night, he was just downright drained by everything. The door creaked open, warning the Slytherins of their arrival and a warm light from the lit fire greeted Tom and Avery. With his eyes, he scanned over the three indifferently and curtly nodded before sitting down in his bed. No one spoke.

Fumbling with one hand, Tom pulled off one of his shoes while discreetly handling his wand and flicked it towards Avery's bed. Several small, eight-legged menaces were magically pulled out from under the bed sheets and he carefully levitated them away. Luckily none of the three purebloods seemed to notice, all were far too busy glaring Avery down; the latter shot a venomous glare straight back at them. "_What_?" Yet no one responded and an uncomfortable silence spread across the room, only small crackles from the fireplace were heard.

Tom pulled off his dress robes and quickly changed, doing his best to ignore the tension and rubbed his temples thoughtfully; the thundering headache had started to subdue, but he could feel it lingering deep down. His eyelids felt heavy. With a final look at the others he crept down under the covers of his bed and turned to his side, staring into the wall of the dormitory. Shadows danced over the wall from the purebloods' movements. Tom's eyes closed slowly. He listened silently to the rustling of bed sheets and feet across the floor, the springs of a madras, and then nothing.

But then a bloodcurdling scream erupted from one of the other boys, loud enough to wake the rest of the Slytherin House and someone stumbled out of their bed. "Get them off! Get them off!" All Hell broke loose and panic spread throughout the room, yet Tom kept his eyes closed with a faint smirk spread across his lips; he pulled the covers further up over his head to block out at least _some_ of the noise. Avery was laughing loudly at the sight unfolding in front of him. "What the …? You did this, you bastard."

"Actually," Tom spoke from his bed, his voice muffled by the bed sheets as they covered most of his face. He did not turn to look at them, but he could easily feel the prickling feeling of many pairs of eyes watching him. "I did." Without really caring much, he awaited a reaction, but an odd silence filled the room; not that he minded. Seemed like that was what it took to shut them up. Good.

"Why would you-"

"Shut up and sleep." Tom retorted sourly and cut Lestrange off. "You are all acting ridiculous and I am getting very _bored_ of it."

* * *

Three days later Tom finally woke up to an abandoned dormitory. He had been all too used to the purebloods' early morning fights, but the stillness was almost eerie: until he really understood the situation and he was free from the four _idiots_. Quickly changing into his school robes, Tom stretched and felt his muscles ache. Then he headed down for breakfast, a book tugged in under his arm for some light reading.

Though, as he entered the Great Hall, he was met by an even bigger shock: the Slytherin first year had suspected most students had gone home for Christmas holidays, but as he looked around he found the hall absolutely _empty_. The four house tables were abandoned, and the usually bountiful breakfast feast was equally missing. Trudging down the aisle, he sat down at his accustomed spot while placing the book on the table; with one hand he found the page he had finished the night before and skimmed the text. While grabbing a goblet of pumpkin juice that had been magically conjured, he enjoyed the complete silence.

But at the sound of footsteps approaching, his brow furrowed slightly. Not sure why, but Tom had a _really_ bad feeling about it and he kept his gaze fixated on the book; if he did not look, then perhaps it would not come true. "Good morning, Mr. Riddle." Her polite, almost _sweetly sick_ voice reached his ears and he forced himself not to cringe. Why her? What were the _odds_? A flicker of black flashed by his side as the pureblood found a seat, the girl quickly smoothening out her uniform. "Seems to be only you and I, how fun that sounds."

He did not respond at first, but then he suddenly remembered something from the day before where all the students had left Hogwarts for Christmas. "Why are you still here?" Tom was pretty sure he had seen Elana's older brother among the witches and wizards heading home, a suitcase at hand and surrounded by Slytherins; but apparently she was not included. _Unfortunately_, he thought bitterly.

"Well," she paused slightly and rested her head in a hand, elbow on the table as she watched him observantly. The pureblood's face was expressionless as always and Tom returned her gaze with a blank stare. Then she looked upwards in stead onto the enchanted ceiling where large, puffy snowflakes fluttered lazily towards the ground; her hair cascaded down her back before she turned her face down once more. "I preferred to spend my holiday here." She smiled.

"Why?"

Fowl chuckled lightly, a sudden gleam in her eyes. "You certainly ask a lot of questions today, Mr. Riddle." With that she shifted lightly in her seat and, a final look in his direction, heaved a sigh. "I preferred to spend my Christmas here at Hogwarts in stead of with my family. Much like you I might add. There are several reasons that I do not wish to bore you with, so let us just say it is because we do not celebrate this holiday at all." Tom silently kept his gaze fixated onto the Slytherin table, listening to her words. "Now, I shared my story. Your turn."

The black haired boy froze, not expecting for her to ask for answers in return of her own. He probably should have, though. Why he did not enjoy the festive event with relatives? Tom clenched a hand under the table. Well, there definitely was an easy answer to that. He had no family. And he would rather jump off the Astronomy Tower than celebrate it in the Orphanage; the mere thought made his blood boil. He would never return to that place unless he absolutely had to. Not even if they would drag him back, kicking and screaming. "Same as you," he responded meekly.

The witch's eyebrow scooted up immediately. Yet, much to his astonishment she made no further inquiry but in stead spoke once more: "Well, then, I am sure you and I can make a great Christmas out of the next weeks." He shot her a questioning look, doubting her every word. Tom did not feel exactly content being stuck with the pureblood, all alone in the castle; but on the other hand it could perhaps be turned to his advantage. In some warped way he could not possible imagine at that point. "Of course I should practice my magical skills, since that was the excuse I gave my parents …" Fowl muttered to herself at his side.

He glanced at her.

An odd but not exactly uncomfortable silence fell over the two first year Slytherins. The witch had embarked on staring ahead of herself onto the stone wall across the table, slowly twirling the goblet with pumpkin juice around in one hand; it even seemed like she had begun humming a familiar Christmas carol. Tom, rather enjoying the silence, did not disturb her. In stead he played with the thought of a peaceful holiday, without the teasing and whispers from the other orphan children. The enchanted ceiling had become almost completely white as the snow outside started falling quicker.

Tom imagined how the grounds around Hogwarts would be completely covered in a white, puffy blanket. He never really did like winter. Mostly because of an incident when he was younger; a few boys his age had filled his bed with the cold snow and he had instantly woken up, tumbling out of the sheets with the roars of laughter hanging in the air. Of course he had taken his revenge later, just as he had on all who had wronged him over the years; but that unpleasant event had still resulted in a nasty fever which he had barely made it through.

All of a sudden, the girl broke his trail of thought and pulled him out of his memory. Elana had once more turned her attention to him, an unfamiliar look spread across her face; she almost seemed _excited_. "I have an idea." A feeling that the _idea_ did not bode well for him, he leaned slightly back and away from her, scanning her face further. No matter what it was, Tom would instantly decline. "My brother told me of a secret passage under Hogwarts that leads off to Hogsmeade. Since there is no one else around, what do you say we _examine_ this further? Just to make sure it is of no danger to our fellow students in any way."

"How about _no_?" Tom responded calmly. He would most certainly not be lead away from the grounds, especially not as it was completely against school regulations; the pureblood was probably plotting for his expulsion! Of course he had on several occasions toyed with the idea of discovering all of the castle's secret passages and rooms, ever since he had come across mentions of those in several books and notations. And it would be beneficial for later use, no doubt about that. But his pride got the better of him: just because _she_ suggested it he would on principle refuse. "You can go get yourself expelled, but do not think I will take any part of it."

Fowl's outward appearance did not change much. The witch merely smiled politely at him and stood, carefully smoothed her robes. "Very well," then she nodded curtly at Tom and turned to leave. "Have a good day, Mr. Riddle." But he knew better. As much as he did not wish to admit, he had slowly gotten used to the girl's behaviour and her _smiles_; and right now she was most likely insulted by his rejection. Much to his pleasure, or at least that was what he told himself. Yet he could not get rid of the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Had he just turned down a great offer?

He heaved an exasperated sigh and watched the retreating back of the pureblood witch. Maybe he really should have joined her, even though it in every way was a bad idea; worst case scenario could even be that they would run directly into one of the professors. They would not be able to sweet-talk them out of such a pinch, and within the blink of an eye he would find himself on the Hogwarts Express on his way back to Wool's Orphanage. The cons outweighed the pros, yet Tom was _still_ not persuaded. Slamming the book shut, he ran a hand through his hair before walking off in the same direction as the witch.

When he finally found her again, she was standing completely still. With her hands by her side, Fowl seemed to be deep in thought; she was observing a statue of the Humpbacked Witch, which he had passed by several times on his way to Transfiguration. The pureblood turned as he approached, his footsteps having caught her attention; she watched him carefully without batting an eye, waiting for him to break the silence. "It is only to keep you out of trouble," Tom muttered, feeling his ears slightly sting in embarrassment as he paused next to her. Quickly crossing his arms across his chest, he stared up at the stone statue dignified.

Elana chuckled lightly. "How very kind of you." He sneered at her words, but forced himself to keep his calm façade. Then the witch swiftly pulled out her wand and flicked it towards the Humpbacked Witch. "_Dissendium_!" After having tapped the statue three times, a loud, crackling noise was heard from the stone wall and the bricks shimmered slightly. They then disappeared completely only to reveal a secret passage, leading down under the castle by a small, wooden staircase. Without as much as a single glance in Tom's direction, Fowl brushed past the statue and vanished briefly after in the shadows.

Tom quickly followed after having glanced to both sides of the hallway; the steps were steep, forcing him to grab onto the wall for balance. He immediate withdrew as he felt a muggy, cold substance stick onto his fingers. Scanning the darkness, his eyes slowly grew accustomed and he could see the outline of the witch only a few steps ahead of him; Fowl impatiently brushed a hand through her hair as she had walked directly into a cobweb. The ground flattened out and they no longer seemed to walk downwards; Tom managed to catch up to her, trailing straight behind her.

His mind was slowly starting to _function_ once more and now he silently scolded himself. _This_ was not thought through completely. He had in his stupidity followed her, not even considering the consequences. _Idiot_. "What exactly do you plan to do when we get there?" Tom asked her and he noticed the anger underlining his tone of voice; she turned her face sideways and glanced at him over her shoulder. Then the pureblood smiled almost innocently.

"Who knows."

His jaw almost dropped, but he pulled himself together. _Unbelievable. _"So you just plan to walk into the village and hope no one questions you? That is not exactly a good idea, is it now? And you are in your school uniform too, you will be spotted instantly." Tom had no idea why he was trying so hard to persuade her into not continuing; he should just turn back and let her get caught and expelled. But in stead, here he was, _still_ walking through the dark and mouldy underground passage with her, doing his best to talk her out of it. Why? "This is-"

"You worry too much, Riddle." She suddenly cut him off, her voice indifferent. Having suddenly stopped in her tracks, the witch turned to watch him face to face. Her smile was still in place. "It seems you are forgetting who you are with. I have no intentions of being caught." Fowl then grabbed out into the darkness and a squeaking sound filled the passageway, sending echoes back and forth between the narrow walls. Then a stream of light instantly blinded Tom. Forced to shield his eyes, he heard her words in the silence that had followed. "If anyone asks questions … leave them to me."

Fowl peered out through a creek in the door, scanning the other side before slipping through. At first he did not make a move to follow, knowing it would be his last chance to turn back before it was too late. But then Tom heaved a sigh and passed through the door into what seemed to be a basement; the room was only illuminated from the clear light shining down through a trapdoor in the ceiling, yet it had still blinded him earlier. The air was heavy and Tom ran a hand over a crate, brushing away the dust to read the label. _Sugar Quills_. "Where are we?" He questioned the pureblood, who was halfway on her way up the ladder.

"The cellar of _Honeydukes_," she responded casually, just as her head disappeared above. He watched her carefully, running his finger around in a circle on the wooden box, but then she reappeared once more. They stared at each other. "Coming?" The half-blood shot her a look, but walked over reluctantly; Tom followed her up the ladder and suddenly found himself in a variety of colours. Red, green, yellow, blue. The sweet shop was abandoned, there were no customers and only an elderly wizard stood behind the counter, somewhat nodding off in sleep; with his eyes fixated on the man, Tom followed the witch.

Tapping a finger on the red and white striped counter, Elana awaited a reaction from the withered wizard. His eyelids stirred and he suddenly woke up, watching the two students through a pair of clouded over eyes. "Y-yes?" But as he became aware of the situation, he suddenly bolted up straight and beamed a bright grin. "Welcome, customers!" Fowl had, without Tom noticing, returned to her usual polite smile; the shop owner eyed the two up and down, lingering briefly on the Slytherin crest secured to their robes. "Hogwarts students at this time of the year?"

"That saddens me, Mr. Harkiss." The pureblood answered; completely unfazed by the fact they had already been caught. Tom shifted slightly at her side. "I had hoped you would recognize me," her voice sent chills down the half-blood's spine and he forced himself to look away. He knew what was coming. She was going to use her triumph card: her _status_. A bitter taste of jealousy filled his mouth and he pressed his lips shut; knowing well there would be no problems now, he left the scene and in stead turned his attention to the shop's merchandise.

"Miss Fowl!"

Ah yes. Of course Harkiss had heard of her, he thought bitterly. Even though he hated to admit it, Tom was well aware of his jealousy towards the girl. He envied all the things she had. Things he would never get. Picking up a tin can, the wizard shook it slightly and listened to the contents, rattling at the movement. In a yellow writing he read _Fudge Flies_ and the mere name made him instantly loose interest in what was inside. Tom never really did like sweets. Returning the fudges to the where he had taken it, he walked further down the rows of shelves and indifferently paused once in a while.

Cauldron Cakes, Shock-o-Choc, Liquorice Wands and Ice Mice. The rows of sweets seemed endless and the sugary smell of the shop had started to become nauseating; Tom ran a hand through his black hair, glancing back towards the counter through his fingers thoughtfully. The old man and the witch seemed to still be indulged in conversation, Harkiss waving his hands animatedly around in the air while Fowl merely smiled politely, listening to him talk. She seemed bored. His shoes felt sticky, as if he had suddenly stepped on something. He glanced down, slowly lifting his foot to look at the shoe sole. There was nothing to be seen, but he still moved from the spot and the two disappeared behind a large stack of boxes.

_Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans._ Tom actually remembered those; he had even tasted them once as Avery nearly forced them down his throat. Unfortunately for the half-blood and even more unfortunate for the pureblood, it had been with the taste of _sardines_. The Slytherin shivered inwardly at the mere thought, but still picked up a box and looked at it thoughtfully, somewhat careful with the remembrance of the earlier accident. "Buying that?" Fowl had suddenly appeared by his side, watching the colourful, wrapped sweets over his shoulder; he glared at her from the corner of an eye, not fold of the distance – or lack of so – between the two.

"No," he responded and quickly put it back on top of the others.

She hummed lowly, focusing her gaze onto him in stead. Tom turned to face her completely, forcing her to take a step back; her eyebrow was raised slightly and the witch seemed to hesitate about something. "Well, shall we?" Fowl nodded her head in the direction of the door and a strand of black hair fell down into her eyes; quickly tugging it back behind her ear, she turned on her heel and started to walk off. Tom was frozen. The hesitant look on her face, earlier … With a frown he brushed off the thought and caught up with her down the aisle of candy, nodding at the shop owner they left through the entrance.

The bell above the door chimed.

A cold wind blew against the two, making Tom cross his arms across his chest as he pulled his clothes further together. His eyes scanned the surrounding buildings and the few people, trudging through the deep snow that had covered the entire village; he felt his ears sting in the freezing air but followed the witch. Fowl seemed to know where she was going. It was not her first visit? His eyes narrowed as they were fixated upon her back. She shivered slightly. The ground below the wizard crunched for every step he took; an elderly couple passed by them, huddled together and with several brown bags in their arms. Both eyed Tom and the other Slytherin curiously.

He avoided their gaze, quickening his pace so he was able to walk by Fowl's side. Her eyes flicked to him before she smiled politely. "Hope you do not mind, but I have an errand in _Tomes and Scrolls_." Tom's eyebrow scurried up instantly. _Where_? Snow blew up from the ground at a gust of wind and he was forced to shield his face, breaking their eye contact. It really did seem she knew _exactly_ where she was going, and it raised several questions in Tom's mind. "A bookshop," the witch added, apparently having read his expression without any hardship.

"It is not like I care where we go. I have no idea why I am here, even." Tom muttered annoyed. They walked down the wide street, passing through several shops and people. Everyone sent them curious glances, surprised to see Hogwarts students during the Christmas holidays; all of the houses were decorated in red and green, sparks of gold and with small Christmas trees. A chorus stood outside an inn, their singing voices mixed with the howling wind as witches and wizards passed by them. He knew all the decorations would get most people into a good mood, but at that point he was just freezing; his uniform was not fit for being outside.

Clenching his hands, he felt his fingers turn numb. "Lighten up," Fowl chuckled with both hands tugged down far into her pockets. Both her cheeks and nose were burning red and her hair was filled with snowflakes, but she seemed high spirited. Apparently she was enjoying herself. Tom furrowed his brow. _Enjoying herself? _Was that really it? They paused outside a two-storey, timbered house with a large, blue sign hanging above the door in two chains. They creaked in the wind. _Tomes and Scrolls. _As she pressed the door open, he considered the newly acquired thoughts through.

Elana had said it herself. Her family did not celebrate Christmas, so perhaps she really did enjoy doing something in her holiday – even though it was with Tom and by breaking school regulations. Maybe the pureblood felt it was like Christmas shopping with her family; Tom entered the bookstore and instantly felt the heat brush against his face. No. There was no way that was the case. The witch probably had ulterior motives. The half-blood watched her once more, thoughtfully, a nauseating feeling in the pit of his stomach. How could he possible think she felt _loneliness_? He made her seem _human_.

With a small smile, she overlooked the title of a book before flipping it over in her hands. Her eyes scanned over the words, oblivious of his stare. He stepped into the store and, with a small _clack_, heard the door close behind him; Tom scolded himself, knowing well he should not possible feel sorry for the pureblood; she was manipulating, obstinate, arrogant and his greatest enemy and rival. It was none of his business if she really felt alone and unloved by her parents. He had enough trouble on his own! But Fowl had suggested _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_ to him earlier. Did that not count?

No, absolutely not. She had probably wanted something in return, without a doubt. That was just the way she was and, as he had told himself several times, he should just keep a distance; running a finger over a large book, he looked at the illustration of a werewolf. Elana was dragging him around at her own pace and he obediently followed! Tom shook his head furiously, messing up his hair but he did not mind. "That girl …" He whispered, more and more annoyed.

"What girl?"


	14. Chapter XIV

I'll start by thanking those who reviewed - it really helps me update as I currently have a bit of trouble with it. Please keep it up! It's encouraging :) and I hope more people will follow these amazing, wonderful creatures' example and do the same! Reviews plox! With that said, I didn't even notice my little cliffhanger in the end of chapter 13 before I read a review ... Heh. But thanks to that I decided to change the story a tiny bit. Not that you would know I do! Except if I was stupid enough to tell- oh bugger. You didn't read anything - and no, I can't just go back and delete what I've already written.

No. Absolutely not! No!

I watched the last Harry Potter movie in the cinema last weekend and oh my GOD, I cried from beginning to end. It's the end of a saga ... I kept thinking that constantly throughout the film and, always having been a great fan of Snape, it was just so sad. Without a doubt, everyone would feel the same way about our favorite Potions Master - unless they're stupid - because really, no one has sacrificed as much as he has. And I of course cried when Voldemort died since, well, Tom Riddle was still in there! Somewhere!

I could have saved him with my love, but no one ever gave me a chance to do so ... But it really is the end ... All that is left is to watch and read the story over and over, so that they will never be forgotten. I will of course read it to my children one day, if I ever get some. But, damn! (I didn't like the 19 years later part, though).

Oh, and Elana might come out as a bit different now but bear with me! She did not just change personality or anything like that over the night, there is a completely reasonable explanation to it all - I am not just jumping to a romantic part whatsoever. Don't even think it! Now, do enjoy chapter 14 and do what the following line tells you to do!

Do review! Really! I kept myself awake til 04.00 in the morning to finish this just for you guys! **Review.**

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter XIV

* * *

He flinched, surprised as he recognized the voice. Oh no … All blood drained from his face. Tom swallowed, trying to regain control of his voice; shutting his eyes close, his mind was working overtime. An excuse. The half-blood had to come up with an explanation. Anything. This really would be the end for him, only half a year at Hogwarts and he would get expelled ... That had to be some kind of record! He felt like laughing at the absurdity, but forced himself to turn around and face the professor.

"Good day, Sir."

His insides churned as his eyes met two orbs, watching him with mixed feelings. Slughorn seemed split in how to react, suddenly having caught one of his favourite students in the middle of breaking school regulations; the Potions Master had his usual, welcoming smile on out of habit, but Tom could see how it slowly faded from the older wizard's face. "What exactly are you doing here?" At that time, the half-blood's mind was consumed by the same question. Yes, _what _was he doing there?

He had gotten lost? Kidnapped? Sleepwalking? "Well," rather hesitant, the first year decided to answer – somewhat – truthfully. With a deep breath, he straightened up and silently hoped Slughorn would at least cut down on his punishment after hearing his explanation. Then he mustered his best apologetic expression and was about to respond, when he, from the corner of an eye, spotted the one behind it all. Elana Fowl had appeared on top of the stairs and, as their gazes locked, the witch instantly froze. "I am not here _alone_."

The pureblood's eyes narrowed into thin slits and she silently warned him, her fingers gripping tightly onto the railing as she leaned over to watch them. But, feeling somewhat satisfied, Tom had no plans to stop; he would at least drag her down with him. The professor quickly cleared his throat and as he spoke, a strange edge laced his voice and he sounded nervous; the witch slowly moved towards them, taking one step at a time as her eyes were constantly locked with Tom's. Like a predator. "So it was Miss Fowl I had seen," at the Head of House's words, she reacted almost instantly.

Tom was forced to the side, the witch pressing her way in front of their teacher; taken aback by the sudden impact, he was forced to grab onto the nearby table, nearly toppling over the stack of books. He shot the girl a look, but Elana was already trying to take control over the situation. "Sir, I am unable to even _describe _how terribly sorry we both are. It was an accident that we ended up here and we should have returned to the castle immediate, I know that but … I apologize." Rolling his eyes inwardly, the half-blood wizard was amazed by her lies. _An accident_.

Yet he had to give her credit for it. She was without a doubt a highly skilled, almost professional, liar; Tom had no greater wish than to see her on the train away from Hogwarts, a dot in the horizon, but he was also well aware that he would be sitting next to her in the compartment. _That_ was less appealing. Slughorn chuckled lightly, apparently trying to ease the situation as he had a hard time coping with it. He had a responsibility towards the school and the correct thing to do would be to instantly expel them both.

The wizard finally motioned for them to follow with a short hand gesture. "Let us talk about this somewhere more suitable, at least."

* * *

The three walked back through the high snow towards the castle in absolutely silence. Slughorn, head bowed to shield his face from the wind, was trudging ahead, while the two Slytherin students followed after him side by side. Tom was unable to comprehend the feelings that were wrecking havoc inside of him, but whenever he thought of their circumstances he felt _light_. Perhaps _shock _could describe the state he was in. Maybe he was so overwhelmed by the situation and the fear of expulsion that his brain had just shut down?

A chilly wind brushed down the slope and whisked up the newly fallen snow, but the wizard felt nothing. The crunching sound of his feet against the crispy layer of snow filled the silence of the castle grounds; the witch at his side was staring straight ahead, eyes clouded over in thought as she contracted her mouth into a scowl. Both her hands were buried deep in the pockets of her school uniform. Tom suddenly remembered her words from earlier: "Did you not say '_leave them to me_'? How are things working out for you now?"

One of her eyebrows scooted up at his tone of voice; instantly latching onto his accusations, she tilted her head in his direction, making the witch watch him with a blank expression. "Which one of us got caught, if I may ask?" Fowl seemed to be irritated rather than scared of their punishment. "And you should perhaps keep those exact words in mind and let _me _handle this." Even though they were in over their heads Tom could not help feeling _insulted_ and ticked off at the witch. She was unbelievable!

When they entered the Entrance Hall, Tom glanced around in the hopes that no one would see them; even though the chances for them to _not_ get expelled were slim, he knew it would also be nearly impossible to survive at Hogwarts if rumours spread. They would be talked about forever. But, much to their luck, the castle was completely abandoned. A single, almost transparent ghost lazily hovered past them on their way down through the dungeons, but the three were not spared as much as a single look. Tom had slowly regained the feeling in his fingers, and he felt the prickling sensation spread across his entire body.

With a hand on the doorknob, Slughorn quickly opened the door to his office and ushered his two students inside. "Have a seat," he spoke while moving to his own chair on the opposite side of the oaken desk. Tom glanced around the room. It was the first time he had stepped foot into the professor's office; it was cramped and small. The witch pulled out an old chair and quickly sat down. Fowl had once more regained her humble appearance; Tom followed suit, taking a seat next to the pureblood.

Several shelves lined the walls, filled to the brink with vials and jars, cauldrons and dried plants. A large bookcase loomed behind the Professor and Tom eyed their titles; he shifted lightly on the uncomfortable chair, waiting for someone to break the silence. His attention was caught by a single, milky white eye as it floated around in a jar of glass, only a few yards from him. Shivering inwardly, it almost seemed like it watched him, judged him; Tom wondered how many students like him had sat in the same chair, nervously waiting for their _sentence _with the eye unemotionally staring directly back at them.

And then the silence was broken. "Both of you are most likely aware of what you have done," the elderly wizard seemed exhausted as he finally spoke, but at the same time his eyes were filled with resolution. Slughorn had made up his mind. The knuckles on his hand turned completely white as Tom clenched hard onto the armrest; this was the end. He would be expelled from Hogwarts and send back to the orphanage, all because of one reckless, spoiled pureblood brat who could not take no for an answer. The blood in his veins boiled furiously, his temper rose drastically; as soon as the conviction was spoken out aloud, he swore to hex the girl at his side.

Tom would never forgive her. Not in a thousand years. The young wizard stared at the desk in front of him, unable to peel his eyes of the dark wood as he silently listened. _Just say it _… Impatiently wishing to just get it over with, he felt absolutely hopeless. Hogwarts was a place where he was not different or weird. He was accepted. All the other students were exactly like him; the abilities he had were a gift, not a curse. But now he had to go back to Wool's Orphanage, back to being annihilated. To be the_ odd one out_.

"You have violated school regulations: as first year students you are forbidden to leave school grounds without the permission of a teacher; and I therefore have no other option, as head of Slytherin house, than to do this," gritting his teeth, Tom closed his eyes. _Here it comes. _His mind was blank. They had not even had a chance to explain themselves. Nothing. "You are both, with immediate effect, expelled from-"

"_Sir_," her voice was completely different from anything he had heard before. Tom had always known her façade was fake, a mask she had put up in order to manipulate people; she had made them believe her to be a polite, well behaved young witch. But, as she showed her true colours right in front of them, it was beyond anything he had imagined. The girl, casually leaning against the back of the chair with an air of superiority, had taken control of the situation. "I do believe you need to listen to our take on the story. In all _fairness_."

Slughorn had been equally taken by surprise, but the professor would not retaliate. "Miss Fowl, there are no excuses needed. You and Mr. Riddle broke school regulations no matter the reason why, and I have no other choice." Tom slowly pulled himself together. The pureblood currently fought for them to stay in Hogwarts and so should he. He would fight with hook and claw in order to not get send back to his old _home_. "I am not much for this at all, but do understand the position I am. What would you do?"

If Elana was desperate enough to show her true personality, then just maybe should Tom– for once – follow her example; but even though threats had always been a skill of Tom's which he took great pride in, he concluded another approach would be more fitting. "Professor, with all due respect, is it really necessary for such punishments? Miss Fowl and I ended up in Hogsmeade by accident," the wizard across the two first years looked perplexed, stunned, suddenly finding himself cornered by both his students. "I know this is … Something I should not point out but, Sir, you were the only one who saw us."

From the corner of an eye, he saw the pureblood straighten up in the chair and a smirk appeared. "I unfortunately do not believe my _family_ would approve, sir. If they heard of my expulsion, then your teaching position here at Hogwarts would undoubtedly be threatened. As Mr. Riddle said, then perhaps we can figure out a solution that will be accepted for both parts? Of course we both acknowledge a suitable punishment is deserved, though something that will reach the ears of my family is out of the question."

The shocked state of his body had long subdued, having been replaced by the unmistakable sense of _victory_. The look on Slughorn's face, his eyes wide in surprise and his burly corpus pressed completely back into the chair, was imminent proof that they had won the argument. "W-well," the professor stuttered, trying to pull himself together; he quickly forced a chuckle. "I guess you are right. Never did I believe expulsion to be the correct punishment, but that is how school rules now are. You can not change that. Though I see no reason to take such drastic measures into use; you two are some of my most brilliant students and I could not bear to loose you this early."

"Indeed." The witch had also returned to her usual self. Tom glanced between the wizard and the witch, amazed at their ability to _let it slide_; Slughorn seemed absolutely unfazed by the earlier threats, almost as if he was quite used to it. Then again, the half-blood thought grimly, with the purebloods attending Hogwarts the Potions Master most likely received such treatment once a year. "So if you please, sir."

Tom felt rather calm at that point, knowing that whatever punishment that would befall him, it would be nothing compared to going back to the orphanage. The eye continued to watch him through the smudged glass, but this time he could return its stare with faint curiosity. Why did the older wizard have such an object standing on his table? It seemed rather peculiar to the young first year.

"I would, due to the grave violation of the rules, deduct one hundred points from each of you." Unfortunately _that_ punishment would make the two Slytherins very _unpopular_ with their own house, but at the same time probably give them a hero status with the others; their total of two hundred points would make the Slytherin House drop below Gryffindor. "_And_ detention under my surveillance for the rest of the year."

Perhaps Tom had been wrong. After receiving his punishment, he most certainly did mind. It did not seem Slughorn had completely gotten over the earlier threats, now carrying out his revenge on the two. Elana smiled politely, but it never reached her eyes and it seemed to be rather forced. "Very well, sir, if that is your decision. At what time do you wish to see us for detention?"

* * *

The two Slytherin students bid the professor a good evening before closing the door; Elana felt a wave of relief rush over her. They had managed to get somewhat out of trouble, even though the point deduction would cause a major uproar among the Slytherins, when they returned from holidays. She ran a hand through her hair, completely drained from energy. Then she glanced sideways onto Riddle; the young boy seemed equally exhausted, almost giving in to the pressure of the surrounding darkness.

The cold stone walls were illuminated only faintly, the distance between the torches too great for the entire hallway to be bathed in light. Her brow furrowed, unable to make out what time it was; how long had they spoken to Slughorn? "Perhaps we can still make it for dinner," her voice broke the silence and an echo travelled down the corridor, vanishing into the darkness. Riddle never responded, but the wizard in stead turned and started walking towards the exit of the dungeons. Elana swiftly followed suit.

Not having eaten anything since before their little _trip_, Elana felt her stomach rumble lightly. Pressing a hand against it, doing her best to soothe it, the two Slytherins entered the Great Hall a second time that day. The half-blood froze at the sight. "I do not think I can take more if this," he muttered worn out, pressing his fingers against the brink of his nose. She silently agreed.

The four House tables were gone, leaving almost the entire floor bare to reflect the sparkling stars from the enchanted ceiling. Directly in the middle of the hall, a single wooden table had been placed, neatly decorated with frost, glitter and a dancing snowman couple; but that was not the largest headache. No. It was already occupied. Happily chatting, the three Gryffindors enjoyed the large feast that had been prepared for them. "Right," Elana sighed. "I lost my appetite."

About to leave, one of the students spotted them in the entrance. Why the Potters could not spent Christmas with the rest of their blood traitor family was an absolutely mystery to her. "Ah! If it isn't the snakes. I didn't know you people actually needed to _eat_," the older brother's taunting remark instantly changed her mind. With long strides, she walked across the floor and found a seat next to the only other girl. In a blur of black and green, Riddle sat down by her side.

"I usually only feed on newborns," the witch overlooked the feast, trying her best to ignore the witch's obvious attempts to get her attention. "But I have been weakened by the Christmas spirit." Elana helped herself to a bowl of Brussels sprouts, fishing the round, green cabbages up with a spoon. A loud chuckle spread across the table, forcing her to arch an eyebrow at their behaviour. "Do you find something amusing, Mr. Potter?"

She watched the Potter brothers across the table. Tyler received a smack against the shoulder blades from the other wizard, the latter still laughing merrily; he seemed rather different compared to how he usually treated her. Perhaps it was the _Christmas spirit_? "You're right, she is a joker." Rolling her eyes inwardly, Elana concluded that ignoring them would be the easiest solution. All she had to do was to finish her dinner as fast as possible, then head back to the dormitories for some peace and quiet. "I had expected you to be more like your brother! A complete stuck-up."

"Charlus!" The Gryffindor girl snapped, scolding the older wizard before Elana had time to react. Her fingers were already laced around her wand, the very second he had badmouthed her older brother; but she loosened her grip and tilted her head towards Isabella. Their eyes met briefly, but then the other witch glared the sixth year down. "Can you at least show you have enough manners to act decent while eating? There should be no reason to behave like a little kid. It _is_ Christmas." The brown haired witch had clearly changed from the time they first met on the train to now; she seemed more confident.

Elana felt a slight happiness at the thought. "Thanks," she mouthed lowly. Isabella responded with a bright smile. An awkward silence then followed, turning the mood around the table rather sullen; the oldest wizard was moping in his seat, uncertain as to which witch he was supposed to glare at. Everyone else ignored him. The clatter of silverware against plates, the younger brother munching on a raisin bun without a care in the world, and the scratching sound of the icemen's skates against the ice were suddenly replaced.

"Are you two together?" Charlus Potter suddenly asked, nodding his head towards Riddle as he eyed her thoughtfully. The question hovered in the air, no one really certain if they should answer or not. She felt absolutely perplexed at the random timing and change of subject. "I mean, it seems like you are always together and-"

"How exactly do you define being _together_?"

"Dating, of course!"

"I first of all see no reason for you to ask such questions. Secondly-"

"No." Riddle cut her off, replying to the question without as much as batting an eye, his voice filled with absolutely loathing. He stared directly back onto the pureblood, his eyes cold and filled with distaste; Elana had planned to answer exactly the same, but she suddenly felt a pang of discomfort. Did he have to answer that briskly? Mystified, she trailed her lower lip with her tongue before clicking it in annoyance. Why did she have to care? Maybe, just maybe, she saw Riddle and herself as _friends_, but he obviously could not even imagine them to be that close.

And who was she kidding? They were merely using each other for their own benefit. Tom Riddle was nothing more than a stepping stone for her, and if he wished to act like that then _fine_. "Well, aren't you the merry one?" Charlus gulped down the content of his goblet, watching the half-blood over its edge with a humoured gleam in his eye. But the Slytherin wizard would apparently have none of it; he pushed the plate away from himself and stood. Elana felt his gaze lingered briefly on her, but before she could make sure, he had turned to leave.

Elana suddenly became aware of a sharp pain in her left hand; she flexed her fingers and examined her palm where four rifts had appeared. A droplet of blood formed in one of the small wounds, but she vigorously wiped it off with a finger. She felt dizzy. "Elana … Are you alright?" Her head snapped up at Isabella's concerned voice; Elana had trouble focusing properly on the other witch. "You're really pale."

Almost jumping to her feet, she forced a smile and ignored the nauseating stir in her stomach. "I am absolutely fine." Her head was spinning. Something was wrong … "If you will have me excused." With a last, reassuring smile towards Isabella, the witch fled the Great Hall and the three Gryffindors. Her feet clacked against the tiles on the staircase, a burning sensation filled her throat and made breathing hard; forced to take a break, Elana leaned against a dungeon wall.

The coldness of the dark stones soothed her mind briefly, but it did not take long before her own body heat gained domination. She felt her head was about to explode, though she would not give in before she was back in the dormitory. No one should see her like that. "Pull yourself together …" The muscles in her body ached as she pushed herself up and away from the wall. Staggering through the darkness, Elana finally appeared before the entrance to the Slytherin common room. "_Superiority_."

As she fought her way through the entrance, the other side was luckily completely abandoned. Riddle had apparently gone to the boys' dormitories or not arrived at all; and right now she was grateful he could not see her. When she could finally sink down into the soft madras, Elana did not even bother to change her clothes. She needed sleep. Pressing her eyes shut, the young girl felt loneliness rush over her; it was always like this when she was ill. The only times where she really needed her parents to be there. To just show a small amount of tenderness for their sick daughter.

Not once had they complied with her wish. Sweat gathered across her arms and legs, the school uniform sticky against her body. Whipping the tears away from her face, she pressed a hand against her forehead. Elana had a fever. Swaying back and forth, she sat up in the bed; pulling the robe off over her head, a sudden chill rushed against her. While throwing the clothes onto the floor, she felt her throat tighten as she coughed.

It hurt. Fumbling with the bed sheets, she wrapped the dark green fabric around her shaking body and curled together into a ball. _I am used to this_, Elana repeated over and over in her head, having a hard time falling asleep even though she was dead tired. _It will be fine_. She was used to it from ever since she was small. No one had helped.

She wished someone would be there for her.

Her parents.

Her brother.

Her eyelids slowly closed as sleep overwhelmed her.

_Riddle …_


	15. Chapter XV

I would first of all thank the people who reviewed - there weren't that many, but to those who did: thank you very much. Although I normally do not reply to the annonymous reviews, due not being able to private message these people, I would like to answer a question asked by **HPFan**. The reason to this is since I think this reviewer deserves it, as - unless it is several people under the same name - HPFan has reviewed several times and shown a lot of dedication to my story. Thank you! Well, I will answer as much as now possible since a complete answer would mean a major spoiler and no one would have to read this story any more!

That would be like shooting myself in the foot ...

But the question is the following: _Will this story end happily, or will Tom end up transforming into Lord Voldemort?_ I will first of all not answer whether or not Tom will become Voldemort or not, since that will be shown throughout the story what path he will take! But with that said, then it all depends how one defines a happy ending. I can say this much it will not be an _And they lived happily ever after_, unfortunately, but in the sense that the ending will be welcomed by both Tom and Elana. So they are "happy" in the end.

I can not spoil any more, and I certainly hope I didn't give much - if anything at all - away in my answer. To all you smart people who knows how to read-between-the-lines or what not, don't you dare figure out what I'm talking about! I mean it! No! But with that said, everyone feel free to ask me questions about the story. I will try and answer them as much as possible. :) And do review!

Sorry also for the fact I haven't updated in a long time. I've just started in university and I traveled to Scotland and England for two weeks. So yeah...

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter XV

* * *

When Elana woke up once more to the abandoned dormitory she had absolutely no recollections of the night before. A faint, pulsating feeling in the back of her head indicated the fever had not completely left her body, but she felt somewhat better. Her vision was groggy as she sat up in her bed, eyes scanning over the room; with one hand she fumbled to get out of her bed sheets, her body completely entangled, while she rubbed her face with the other.

As her feet touched the stone cold floor below, her attention was suddenly directed towards the small wounds across her hand. "What is this …?" Elana wondered thoughtfully, trailing a finger over the rift. With an exasperated sigh, she remembered how she had stabbed herself with a fork at last night's dinner. While pushing herself off the madras, she nudged her robes scattered across the floor with a foot; with a flick of her wand, she watched the clothes levitate lazily through the air, until it was gathered in a bundle at the foot of her bed.

Quickly shuffling through her suitcase, she pulled out some clean clothes before rushing out into the bathroom. Two dark blue orbs stared directly back at her in the mirror, dark circles underlined her eyes and she looked absolutely horrible; Elana hated being sick. She felt weak, almost like an easy prey. Lowering her face, she absentminded stared down into the swirling water in the sink, and tried to get rid of a nagging feeling.

Had she forgotten something? Her mind felt cloudy and she could barely concentrate. _Something important …_ Letting out yet another sigh, Elana tried to untangle her hair and ran her fingers through the filtered mess of black hair, which had apparently formed over the night. Her feet felt partially numb against the marble tiles and she curled her toes together. Shaking off the uncertainty, the witch stepped back into the dormitory where the heat, compared to the clammy and cold bathroom, almost felt welcoming.

And then, as her eyes fell onto the floor where her used school robes had been, she suddenly remembered.

In her short trip out of the room, the Hogwarts house-elves had quickly swept the room clean, taken care of her laundry and, in return, left a small pile of presents. Elana froze in her steps, having been completely taken aback that someone had actually sent _her_ Christmas presents that year. No one ever sent her presents! With a wary eye on the neatly wrapped packages, the witch sat down onto the bed and ignored the complaints from the madras; then, a scowl spreading across her face, she picked up a rectangular package in black and silver wrappings.

Her fingers fumbled to loosen the small card firmly secured to it, ripping off one of its corners in the process. Elana stared for a long minute on the small image of a fluffy terrier, half hidden by a large, red bow, unable to make herself read the text on the back of the letter. But in the end, scolding herself for being so childish and scared, she flipped it around between her fingers. Eyes scanning over the orderly handwriting, she instantly recognized it and the small, almost invisible feeling of excitement vanished at once.

_Dear Miss Fowl_

Letting out a hollow laugh, the pureblood shook her head in disbelief. Had she actually _hoped_ it was a present from her parents? Had she not learned, throughout her eleven years, that they did absolutely not care for her? Brushing her hair away from her face, she scowled before continuing to read the short letter from her old, stern, but loyal, housekeeper:

_Congratulations for being admitted into Slytherin. Both your parents are very proud and have absolute faith that you will not disappoint them with unsightly behaviour. Remember to honour your family name at all times, especially with the increased amount of Muggle-born that has been allowed into Hogwarts. Do not let them approach you in any way._

_Enclosed is a small gift, both as a Christmas present but also to commemorate your acceptance into Hogwarts. I do believe you will put it to good use at your time at school. And once more, you are of noble birth and should live with that in mind at all times._

Elana rolled her eyes. So they at least had the common _decency _to make the housekeeper sent her a present. _How utmost _kind_ of her parents_. With a bitter taste in her mouth, she placed the card on her bed stand before picking up the present; it rattled slightly at the movement and, holding very little respect towards the package, she tore off the wrappings carelessly. It was quickly revealed to be a set of quills, including a black and gold pheasant-feather quill, and associated ink in different colours. All of it was protected by a velvet mahogany box.

It looked expensive. As she carefully lifted the set up, another gift appeared beneath it; placing the quills next to her in the bed, Elana trailed a finger over the title of the tome. _Hogwarts, a History_. Her brow furrowed lightly at the sight of the heavy history book. Why would they give her _that_? Flipping through the pages, Elana discarded it shortly after; she had it at home, somewhere on a bookshelf in her room, but then again … How could her parents possible know that?

Leaning over the side of the bed, the witch was amazed there was yet another package on the floor. It was a light box, colourfully wrapped with a large, pink bow but no matter where she looked, there was no card. Her head popped down, black hair falling in front of her eyes and brushed back and forth over the floor, as she looked under the bed. After being completely sure to not have missed it, she shifted in the bed.

But there was no name on the box. With a light shrug, believing the sender had probably just forgotten to attach a card, Elana, this time with a little more care, unwrapped the gift. A pair of completely black bead eyes stared back up on her; more and more confused, Elana glanced back and silence fell over the dormitory. The small firewood in the room crackled with small _pop_s and the air was a mixture of moist and heat; her fingers locked around the teddy bear's arm and she gently pulled it up.

"What is this?" She worded her confusion out in the air, almost as if she expected someone else to answer her question. The fur was light brown and fluffy, almost silky soft against her fingers as she perched the bear on top of her knee. Another pink bow, similar to the one on the box, yet smaller, was wrapped around its neck. "Who sent you …?"

* * *

Tom pressed the book shut and, heaving a sigh, leaned his head back against the backrest of the couch. He threw the Transfiguration book down on a pillow next to him, trying to get rid of the infuriated and nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach; for each passing day he would get closer and closer to the arrival of the other students. Because of Fowl, both of them would be hated by their follow classmates and Slytherins, just because they lost two hundred house points. _Because of _her.

Barely having gotten any sleep out of worry the entire night, his eyes closed once in a while, but he forced them open every time. Tom wrinkled his brow thoughtfully and stared into the flickering flames in the fireplace; the air was heavy and moist, making his throat clamp up. With a cough, his ears perked attentively at the sound of footsteps. Quickly straightening up, he pretended not to notice the witch.

"Good morning," she greeted quietly.

The girl came to a halt to his left, at the side of the couch and he felt her eyes on him; Tom turned his head in her direction, leaning back to get a better look at the witch. Only responding to her greeting with a raised eyebrow, his eyes shifted over her thoughtfully; to think someone as small as her could cause so many troubles for him. The witch's lips curled into a small frown, almost like a pout, but then she regained her composure.

"How cheery you are," slowly sitting down in one of the dark green armchairs, her eyes were fixated upon him. "As always, of course." In a flicker of movement, Tom barely managed to catch the book that had been slung at him. As he caught it between his hands, he felt one of its corners dig into his palm and brief pain shot through his arm; taken aback by the sudden _attack_, he glared her down.

"What is this?" Tom indicated towards the hardback, waving it towards the witch in indignation. Wary of the witch, his eyes wavered between the witch and the title of the book. _Hogwarts, a History_. His mind was jumbled by thoughts, and he tried coming up with a sensible conclusion as to _why_ the witch would possible hurl a _book_ at him.

She sent him a blank look. "A book."

"Yes, I can see that." Heaving an exasperated sigh at her response, Tom shifted lightly in annoyance. It all gave less and less sense. "_Why_ is it a book?" This time it was her turn to sigh, her black hair brushing over her shoulders as she shook her head in disbelief; then Fowl chuckled lowly at something only she knew was funny.

"See it as a Christmas present from me to you." His jaw dropped at her words. A _what_? "Merry Christmas, Riddle."

"Who says I _want_ it?"

His words sounded exactly as harsh as he wanted them to. Fowl's cheeriness faltered only briefly, but then she added another layer to her smile as she leaned forward. Folding her fingers, the witch rested her head in her hands, elbows on the cold table. "Now, really, as far as I am concerned … you have already accepted it."

She nudged her head in his direction, at his hands and fingers around the beautifully bound book. His face fell another notch. "I have no plans of _thanking _you, just so you know. Nor will I return the gesture in any way," almost harshly placing the history book on the table, Tom's face was then inches from the witch's. "Understood?"

The witch retorted with an indifferent shrug.

* * *

Tom stared over the silvery surface of the Hogwarts Lake, feeling the cold wind sweep across his face. His fingers felt partly frostbitten, even though they were buried deep in his pockets, and his cheeks burned in the winter weather. A screech echoed over the Hogwarts grounds as a grey owl soared towards the skies, vanishing in the white clouds. "Silly witch," he huffed and watched his breath crystallize in the air.

He had felt absolutely speechless and rather uncomfortable, sitting in the Slytherin common room with the other first year. She had had that annoying, sly smirk written all over her face at his words; Tom had left the book on the table and almost stormed out shortly after. He felt restless and trapped in the castle, an ominous, haunting feeling stalking him throughout the halls and corridors.

It had followed him for several days, no, weeks, but Tom had first started to really notice it as everyone had gone home. After having left the dormitory, he had tried to seek refuge in the library, but in the quietness among the dusty books the whisper had become louder, more urgent as it reached out towards him. Was he loosing his mind?

Crouching down, the snow crunched under his feet and Tom buried his head between his knees. "Pull yourself together, Tom." The voice was barely a whisper, so low he could not make out the words. But there was one thing he understood; it was thirsting for blood. With a resigned sigh, his face contorted into a pensive mask. Was he hearing things? Or perhaps it was his inner most thoughts, trying to fight their way into the open?

He gritted his teeth and, letting out a yell of annoyance, jumped back onto his feet. He felt agitated and on edge, the feeling of control slipping through his fingers; but if he did not know the answer to something … then he would most definitely find it. And he knew _exactly_ where to look. For the second time that day, Tom made his way towards the library; trudging through the deep snow, up the slopes towards the castle, his eyes scanned over its tall walls.

Stretching towards the clouded skies, the almost countless towers loomed above him as the castle's shadow fell over him; snowflakes fluttered down, one after another landing in his hair and on his shoulders. Hot air brushed against his face as he trudged through the doors, the entrance hall abandoned as always. His eyes flickered to the side, detecting a faint, shimmering motion. An almost transparent ghost lazily hovered across the marble floor, the gems in the four House Point Hourglasses glimmering in the background.

The difference between the rubies in the Gryffindor hourglass and the Slytherins' green emeralds was eye catching, and another surge of anxiety rushed over him. With a faint nod of the head, the male ghost showed off an arrow, having gone straight through his eye; Tom curtly returned the gesture before taking the steps two at a time up the marble staircase.

Partly out of breath, Tom tried to regain his posture in the doorway to the library. His eyes scanned over the rows of shelves, books covered in a faint layer of dust, and the cold morning light through the large windows. His footsteps echoed between the aisles, a comfortable silence filling his ears as the whispering voice was nowhere to be heard; Tom felt his shoulders relax and the tension leave his system. He really did prefer solitude.

Coming to a halt in the History section, he tilted his head back to glance up on the titles above him. "There has to be something useful in here," feeling the tickle of his hair against his neck, he reached out a hand to drag down a leather-bound tome. As he pulled it down, small specks of dust fluttered down towards him; Tom blew off the cover to make out the title, but found it to have faded away over time.

Gently putting the book down on a nearby table, he pulled out a chair. Probing his head in a hand, his elbow against the wooden desk, he turned the first pages. How many hours had he spent here? Bent over book after book, turned page after page yet to find no answers? Tom seemed to sigh way too often nowadays. And then he felt it once more … He felt his skin crawl, goose bumps spreading over his arms and neck even before he heard the voice.

_"It is time … Time to kill …" _

Clutching his head in his hands, Tom tried to shut out the voice, to ignore its calling. But no matter how hard he fought, how hard he tried, the creature's blood thirst rushed over him. He balled his hands into fists and slammed them onto the table; the chair screeched behind him as it toppled to the floor. "_Enough!_" His mind felt like it was about to explode, an anger not really his rushing through his body.

Tom pulled in air quickly and stared directly down onto the table; a pulsating feeling at his temples indicated a headache nearing. He strained his ears, trying to locate the voice. But it was gone once more. Then his head shot up and was met by two dark blue orbs, wide in shock; she had to be following him … how else could she be _everywhere_ he went? Fowl seemed frozen in mid-track, a couple of books secured against her chest.

Then, blinking furiously, the pureblood cleared her throat.

"What was that?"

Tom instantly latched onto her tone of voice; it was wavering, almost as if the witch was _scared_. Straightening up, he noticed her tense and, putting it to the test, he took a step forward. Fowl instantly withdrew from him. "What do you mean?" He asked cautiously. How much had the pureblood witnessed? Had she heard it too?

One of her hands snuck down to her side, but he saw it coming and was at her side before she could pull out her wand. The witch inhaled sharply, a loud _thump_ spread throughout the library as the books fell to the floor; Tom felt his heart race in his chest. Clasping his fingers around her wrist, he forced her hand out of her pocket and away from the wand. They stood locked against each other for several moments, neither speaking nor acting, their eyes glues to each other's constantly.

"What do you mean?" He repeated.

Fowl seemed to have calmed down significantly. He felt her breath against his face, her sharp eyes digging into his own. "That …" With a short pause she seemed to contemplate her words once more, but then she made up her mind: "That language you just spoke, what was that?" Tom's brow furrowed at the witch's words. What _language_?

"English, of course."

She shook her head. "No, that was something else. Something entirely different … It was- No." The girl let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head in disbelief at her own thoughts. "That is impossible," she pried her hand away from his, once more creating a distance between them. Tom allowed her, not seeing her as any threat anymore; he merely watched her thoughtful figure. If it had not been English, then _what_ exactly had it been?

Tom would have known if he had spoken a different language. He would have heard it. Then it hit him … Had he done it subconsciously? Turned over to another tongue to communicate with the strange voice? It had come as a surprise to him when he had first spoken to and understood a snake, but over the years he had come to master the art quite well. Yet … he had expected several other students at Hogwarts to possess the same ability. His eyes flickered to the Slytherin witch. The look on her face told him differently.

"_Parseltongue_."


	16. Chapter XVI

It feels nice to finally reach a point where I could drag in a bit of Tom's family and stuff, which will be quite a focus in the story and in his development and growth at Hogwarts. I actually didn't plan to reach this point so early on, but it just ... typed itself, really. And then I went with the flow, skipped a few things and I suspect this will work out better.

I won't talk a lot for this chapter (You're probably all thinking "Thank Merlin's beard for that"), so please leave reviews - I know how this story is going to progress. Do you? No, so if anyone wants me to continue then please do encourage me! I got it in my head and already know the end, so it's not for my own sake I put this up. :)

Please review.

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter XVI

* * *

_Parseltongue._

The word had been barely a whisper as it left the witch's mouth. Tom felt panic rush through his body, finally aware that his ability to speak with snakes was something _problematic_; the pureblood pressed a hand to her forehead, almost staggering as if loosing her balance. "It is impossible …" In a sharp movement, her head spun up and their eyes locked. "You," in two long, quick strides it was her turn to lessen the distance between them. With her being a head lower than him, he glanced down and felt cold sweat form at his temples. "You are a Parselmouth?"

He nodded his head slowly. "Yes." Tom opened his mouth once more, about to air a question when the witch burst out laughing. The nearly hysterical, fanatic laugh echoed in the library, spreading in and out around the shelves of books; Fowl clutched her sides, pressing her way past Tom to lean against the table. He watched the movement of her shoulders, up and down, as she tried to catch her breath. "Why?"

Waving her hand in the air, brushing off his question without much care, the pureblood turned to face him and leaned back against the wooden table. Her dark blue eyes were sharp, a spark lurking deep down. A chill ran down Tom's spine. "So you can speak _Parseltongue_," the Slytherin girl seemed to savour the taste of the word, digging her teeth into her lower lip. Tom stood frozen in place, unable to comprehend if it was a good or bad thing; had the pureblood figured out a great secret?

He felt her calculating look trail up and down his body as if measuring him, thrilled at her discovery. It disturbed him. "What is it to you?" Tom snapped at her, feeling restless at his own ignorance. There were too many things to keep track off; the girl knew something he did not … And the voice earlier … Fowl shot him a disapproving look and, with a click of her tongue, pressed herself off the table.

Her shoes clacked against the floor, the witch brushing past him. He spun around, barely catching a glimpse of the black hair, disappearing behind one of the shelves; but her voice rang out to him. "You have quite the _peculiar _gift, Riddle." Fowl sounded entertained. Tom quickly followed her, spotting the girl slowly walking past the many books; her eyes flickered up and down, looking for something. His heart beat loudly in his chest and he felt blood rush through his veins. "Parseltongue is the language of serpents …" She explained thoughtfully.

An unmistakable sensation of curiosity and excitement filled him, his mind eager to hear more; Tom felt like he would finally understand, finally _learn_, the answer to an important puzzle. The last missing piece. He did not know _what_ it was, but it would all soon make sense. He just knew it. Fowl came to a halt, quickly dragging down an ancient linen-bound book. With a victorious smirk, she flashed it at him.

Tom hastily joined the witch at her side just as she flipped through the pages; images and pictures flash across his eyes, too fast for him to latch onto anything familiar. And then suddenly she stopped. A large, completely black snake encircled the chapter's title, its emerald green eyes so vivid they reached out to him through the paper. _Parseltongue_. The letters and words of the book had been smeared over the centuries, but the witch seemed versed in the subject. "It is a _very _scarce skill and I have never met anyone possessing it," her eyes flickered to him. "Until now."

"Why is it so rare?" Tom inquired, surprised at the extraordinary gift he owned: and he had imagined half the students at Hogwarts mastered it, too! "I would suspect it to be a common ability to communicate with animals," he did not understand why, but he felt like he had to contradict the witch. She could not possibly be right.

She shook her head. "No, Parseltongue is typically hereditary."

Tom felt his heart skip a beat.

_Hereditary_? He had inherited it from someone? From his family? "Which is why I am even more amazed … To find such an amazing gift in someone like, well, someone like you." An apologetic smile flashed across her face, but Tom's mind was too far consumed by the possibilities her words had unravelled.

"And why is that so surprising?"

Fowl paused, a shimmer in her eyes reflected from the sunlight; she was equally excited, but Tom doubted it was for the same reason as him. "You are a half-blood." With a finger, she flicked over another page and then pointed down onto a passage. Tom followed her direction, eyes quickly running over the words, barely understanding half of them. But he recognized the picture. "It is said that all Parselmouths are descendants of him. Of _Salazar Slytherin_."

A silence settled over the library and the two first years, the entire world around them holding its breath in anticipation. He felt faint. The mere thought of it sent sparks of delight throughout all of his body; his fingers tingled and the corners of his mouth curved up. Him? Tom Riddle, the orphan boy, a descendant of the great Salazar Slytherin? "That is-"

"Interesting." Fowl finished for him with a short nod just as she slammed the book shut once more. "It is, yes, but highly unlikely." Tom stared at the girl in disbelief. Her mood had turned drastically; he suddenly recognized the pureblood at his side, her back straight and eyes hard in distaste. Fowl looked at him. "For you to descent from a line of such _noble_ blood is an utmost _disgrace_," every syllable she worded was laced with poison. "No …" She shook her head. "The mere thought sickens me."

His mouth fell open at her words. Had she just called him a _disgrace_? "_What_ did you just say?" Infuriated at the obvious insult, his fingers dug down through his pocket and tightly gripped his wand. Tom would make her regret ever saying that. Having pulled it halfway out of his school robes, all air was suddenly pressed out of his lungs as the History book was slammed into his stomach. He nearly buckled over.

"Do not even try that," the witch hissed through gritted teeth. What had set off her temper was far beyond him, but the pureblood fumed in build up anger; her dark eyes flickered past his shoulder, indicating for him to stay put. "Merry Christmas, Professor," the witch called out, sidestepping the other first year. His fingers clutched forcefully around the book before masking his fury. When he turned to greet the professor, he was met by a pair of light blue eyes, sparkling mischievously over a pair of half-moon spectacles.

Of all the people, who could have interrupted them, it was _Dumbledore_, the only other person at Hogwarts who knew of his ability as a Parselmouth. The Transfiguration professor was dressed in a midnight blue robe with gold droplets, his greying hair half covered by a matching velvet hat and he seemed to be in a good mood. As always. "Such eager pursuit of knowledge this early on in the morning is quite praiseworthy, I must say." Tom felt his stomach churn in annoyance, making sure to hide the book as much as possible with his sleeve.

He did not trust Dumbledore, nor did he even attempt to keep up a façade in front of the teacher. The elderly wizard saw right through him and _that_ bothered him to no end. Elana covered her earlier rage to perfection, flashing her white teeth in a polite smile. "You almost make us sound like a pair of Ravenclaws, sir." Both student and teacher chuckled lightly.

"Oh no, I am most certain both of you belong in Slytherin. That fact is as clear as the sun itself!"

Tom had no doubt his fellow classmate had felt the sting of his words, well aware of a hidden, wayward message. How much had Dumbledore heard? "Well … If you will have us excused, sir? Mr. Riddle and I hoped to finish the essay you assigned us in the last class." With a faint, curt nod she stepped past the tall wizard without ever looking back. Tom sneered inwardly, but followed suit.

"Sir," he greeted before making his way out of the library.

The witch had waited for him outside the door, the polite smile wiped off her face as their eyes met. "I suspect you need an explanation," her voice sounded exhausted, without a trace of anger but rather resigned.

No reason to even respond, the two Slytherins swiftly created a distance between themselves and the Transfiguration professor; the abandoned castle only amplified the silence. Not even the portraits on the walls seemed in the mood for their usual gossiping antics, but rather lazily hung out in their own frames. The clear, cold morning sun had disappeared behind a veil of grey clouds; the howling wind clashed against the frost covered windows, making the temperature inside the castle drop drastically.

Tom pulled his clothes together tightly even before they had reached the dungeons.

Slipping through the secret entrance into the Slytherin common room, he felt his mind jumbled by thoughts and confusion. The witch in front of him made no sense: her constant mood swings drove him to the brink of insanity, his patience running thin. While taking a seat in the couch, his eyes briefly lingered on the book that had been left on the table earlier the same day. "Care to explain?"

With a small shrug, the girl brushed a black strand of hair from her face before placing both hands in her lap. "You should be able to figure that out for yourself," her dark blue eyes scanned him briefly. "But think about it … We both know you are not of pure blood. Yet _still_ the noble blood of Salazar Slytherin may just float through your veins; can you see where the problem lies?"

His brow knitted together. Yes, he could see it. "For me to be a descendant of Slytherin, then the bloodline must have been mixed somewhere over the last couple of centuries." Fowl nodded gravely, apparently finding it to be a greater sin than Tom could ever possibly imagine. But, having spent half a year in the presence of obnoxious and proud purebloods, he could somewhat understand the offence.

The worst possible crime they could commit would be to ruin their own bloodline, to _taint_ it. "Salazar Slytherin's family line, albeit close to non-existent these days, is quite prominent." A hint of humour flashed in the two orbs as they locked with Tom's own. "If only you were a pureblood," she clicked her tongue in disapproval. "How popular you would have been when it came to marriage proposals."

Tom waved off her comment, averting his gaze to in stead overlook the familiar common room. "You said _close to_ non-existent," the flames in the fireplace had died out, only a soft, reddish hue slumbered in the ashes of the burnt wood. "That would mean some still remain, no?" His stomach clenched tightly together, expectations slowly building up inside of him. Of all the people, _she_ would most likely have heard of them; Fowl would have been raised to recognize another pureblood just by their name, to instantly rule out those _unworthy_ of her time.

Elana shook her head, her hair brushing lightly against her shoulders at the movement. She leaned back in the armchair, unaware that she had in that split second shattered Tom's hopes; he felt like someone had poured icy cold water over him as reality had hit him. Hard. "I can unfortunately not recall any living descendants," the witch's voice held a hint of pity, but Tom could not even feel annoyed at that time. "Records of the family almost vanished over the last couple of centuries, but that should not necessarily mean the line is completely extinct."

Nothing she said could change a thing. That last, final spark of hope had been washed away at her words. Tom knew nothing of his parents; how could he ever be certain? Over the years spent in the orphanage, he had come to terms with himself and his fate. He had no family and he could take care of himself. But then he had discovered he was a wizard. Tom was special, he had found a home and hope had been renewed.

"I mean," Fowl shifted in her chair as she spoke. "The line obviously has not died out."

Tom forced himself to look up, to return her gaze.

"Even if it is only an ounce of Salazar Slytherin's blood that runs in your veins, it does not change the fact you may just be a descendant. Which means the line is kept alive within you. Well, of course if you truly are an heir … But I have never heard of a Parselmouth that did not descent from Slytherin." He flipped through the pages of the book until he once more came to the chapter of Parseltongue.

"I might be the first then," he responded coarsely, staring onto the picture; the founder of Hogwarts had an eerie air around him, almost like Dark Magic seeped through the very pages of the book. Tom felt a shiver down his spine. Their History of Magic professor, Cuthbert Binns, had briefly mentioned the four founders and Salazar Slytherin's distaste of Muggle-born students. The very Slytherin House was all about blood supremacy. Tom almost cracked a smirk at the thought.

And here he was: a possible heir to the great Salazar Slytherin? Tom Riddle, whose mother had been a filthy mudblood, unable to safe herself as she gave birth to him? The mere thought sounded ridiculous in his head. But at the same time, he could not help savouring the taste a little, his dark eyes fixated on the witch across the table. Her brow was furrowed, the blue orbs clouded over in thought. "This certainly is complicated."

Tom silently agreed with the pureblood. _Heir of Slytherin _… Then a sudden question manifested in his mind, eyes once more flickering towards the girl in the chair. "Why are you-" Almost biting into his tongue in surprise, both the witch and wizard turned towards the hidden entrance; a head popped into the common room, the Slytherin boy's attention quickly falling upon them. With a scowl, Avery stepped inside and dragged a rugged, dark brown trunk after him. His cheeks were crimson red from the cold and snowflakes slowly melted on his shoulders and hair, but he _unfortunately_ seemed vivid.

The few days of long awaited peace and quiet had suddenly come to an early end. "What is _she_ doing here?" The pureblood snapped at the girl, leisurely watching him from the armchair. Her eyebrow scooted up. Tom suppressed a sigh, having no wishes whatsoever so spent his Christmas holiday with the two. With a _thud_, Avery let go of the handle, letting the trunk hit the cold floor loudly; then he fell back into the same couch as Tom and nodded in his direction. "Merry Christmas."

"Same," he returned the greeting, but was slightly annoyed with the interruption. He would be unable to discuss his possible heritage with Fowl, now that the other wizard would definitely follow him around _everywhere_.

"Now," the pureblood snapped at the girl. "Why are you here?"

"I attend this school too you know?"

Tom rolled his eyes inwardly and pushed himself off the couch. He had no plans to sit around and listen to their constant bickering. I will see you at dinner," he informed, steering directly towards the boys' dormitories. He knew Avery would follow not long after, but at least one pureblood was easier to handle than both at the same time. Deep down he even hoped the whispering voice would manifest once more when he was alone, an idea slowly forming in his mind …


	17. Chapter XVII

I'm a bit amazed at myself for actually updating, since I really had no intentions of doing so. But I was bored, had a couple of hours to spend with only a laptop as my company and this is where I ended up - I do hope readers will leave a review (or two) for this if they do want me to continue. It would be quite easy for me to stop once more.

Cheers and do enjoy!

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter XVII

* * *

With an arm leisurely slung over the back of the armchair, Elana silently watched the retreating back of the wizard. She could still feel the tip of her fingers prickle lightly in anticipation and excitement; what had been a complete coincidental meeting in the Hogwarts Library had instantly led to an unimaginable discovery. Even though it had been the first time ever for her to hear Parseltongue, the dark language of Salazar Slytherin had been unmistakable. Tom Riddle had suddenly become even _more_ peculiar.

Thoughtfully trailing her lower lip with her tongue, she redirected her attention towards the other pureblood next to her. "Why did you return before the end of holidays?" With her eyes lingering on the boy, Elana quickly ran through a list of books in her mind, curious to know when the most powerful bloodline had been broken. Her stomach churned just by thinking of it; who could possible have tainted their own family's blood?

Avery, who had apparently forgotten who he was talking to, responded without a single venomous remark: "You should know exactly how my parents are. Not even _you_ would last long either," the corners of his mouth had contracted into a scowl as he spoke. Elana almost smiled. "I don't have to ask why you didn't even go home at all."

The burning wood crackled in the fireplace, shadows dancing over the stone floor. One thing the two purebloods had in common, with almost all other pureblood children, were unbearably obnoxious parents. _But_, she grimly mused, _his could be tolerated for a few days at least._ Elana flexed her fingers and felt her joints ache and complain from idle stiffness. "Now," the witch leaned closer. "With the fear of ticking you off as always, what exactly happened between you and the other three morons? My guess is either you or Lestrange said something."

The wizard shot her a poisonous look, instantly regaining his old snappy attitude towards her; the last couple of minutes had been forgotten once more. "It has got nothing to do with you! Why do you always stick your nose into other people's business? You'll regret it one day." Her eyebrow scooted up at his words. Her hunch had been correct; Avery was almost too easy to read and he had just given himself away. The pureblood in front of her had clearly started an argument with the others and, unless she was much mistaken, Elana was most likely the topic of discussion.

"Thank you for your concern, but I think I will be perfectly fine."

Avery huffed and crossed his arms across his chest, sinking down into the couch. "I doubt that," he muttered. She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You'll one day take on someone bigger and stronger than you just because you think you can … And that will be the end of you."

With a sigh, she pushed herself off the chair and watched him indifferently. "Do you honestly believe I would be that stupid?" Turning on a heel, she strode across the chilling common room towards the girls' dormitories. That stupid _kid_ had no right to lecture her. What did he know? His final words reached her on the steep stairs, making her shake her head with a small smile:

"No, I don't."

_You should be more honest with yourself, Avery …_ The witch mused by herself, quickly tugging a strand of hair behind her ear as she took the final steps two at a time. She pushed the door open with one shoulder, greeted by the darkness of the first year dormitory. Elana had other things to worry about rather than Peter Avery's remorse …

* * *

Tom slung back into his bed, feeling the soft mattress below complain from the sudden change of weight and he stared up into the ceiling above. Most of the room was covered in darkness; the small fire in the fireplace had died out over the day and, with no one around, was now left as a small smouldering pile of ashes that barely illuminated the floor. Slowly breathing as he tried to control his almost screaming nerves, Tom knew he had to regain control of his feelings of anxiety and eagerness before Avery would appear in the door; because he would, no doubt about that, driven out of the common room by the witch.

But it was unbelievably hard as, over and over again, the thoughts resurfaced in his mind. _Parseltongue … _If only the pureblood wizard had not interrupted them, Tom could possibly have learned even more of his supposed ancestry. But Tom had in stead been forced to abandon the subject for now, though he had every intention of bringing it up with the witch once more at the right moment. All he had to do was shake off Avery and, as they had proven countless of times, Fowl and he would most likely run into each other sooner or later.

Although he was unwilling to admit it, it most definitely seemed like they were fated to constantly get tangled up in the other's business. The heavy, oaken door burst open just as Tom had predicted, making him not even bothered to greet the newly arrived. "She is the most annoying, obnoxious, _stubborn_ person I have ever met!" Avery fumed and took a seat in a bed across of Tom's; slowly turning his head, he watched the pureblood calmly.

"I do wonder when you plan to tell me something new," he responded. It was getting old. Quickly. "If you cannot stand her, I would strongly suggest you simply ignore her. Sooner or later she will grow tired; she is only doing it for a reaction, which you apparently quite willingly tend to give her."

With a scowl, Avery buried his face in his hands. "Yes, but I don't really want to ignore her. It's all because of that stupid well," the pureblood seemed not to notice the valuable piece of the puzzle he had just let slip, but Tom had. His eyebrow scurried up in faint interest. _Well?_ But, as much as his curiosity craved for him to dig further into the matter, he knew he had more important things to attend to. A pillow flew across the room. "I don't get how you can stand her."

"Excuse me?"

"Whenever I see you it is almost like she is always there. Don't tell me … You are actually _friends_ with her? I did warn you, Tom, I really did." At the very thought of it, Avery bolted right back up with a horrified expression written across his features. "That has to be impossible. You two would kill each other just by being in the same room, she would drive even you up the wall in the end." Tom, slowly knowing the all too familiar headache was once more creeping up on him, sat up as well.

"I am not quite sure I follow," unless he was much mistaken, Fowl had introduced him to the other pureblood as one of their own, perhaps even a close friend of the distinguished Fowl family. And, although they had had their share of hostility, it would be rather normal to be seen together, to at least tolerate the presence of another pureblood. He froze. Why exactly was he defending her? To what purpose? But even before he had thought the question through, had he come up with the answer; because Tom cold not afford to have her as an enemy. Not now, when he ventured out into unknown waters; Fowl was a valuable asset, her vast knowledge of pureblood ancestry, far succeeding his own, would be too great a loss if they turned enemies.

At least for now he would have to tolerate the proud witch, who he knew was more than eager to assist in his search for answers. He could just imagine her hunger for exactly the same as him, although her purpose could be no more different than his own; how he would deal with the aftermath was yet to be solved. Avery had watched him quietly from his own bed, silently and with an almost grim look in his eyes.

"In fact, Peter, I would suggest you keep your hostility towards Fowl to a minimum for a while." The pureblood opened his mouth to retort and most likely argue, but Tom brushed his concerns away with a wave of a hand. "Listen, I am unable to explain the situation to you at this current point in time, but I can assure you I _will_ need her on my side." Their eyes locked for what seemed to be a century, but the other wizard in the end surrendered with an uninterested shrug; Tom gave a faint nod. "Good, for I could not do it without you."

Avery, ruffling up his black hair, chuckled. "I have no idea what you are up to, Tom, but I guess it can't be helped. Though I do hope I won't constantly have to stick around _her_," he shuddered to make a point, once more vending his dislike towards the pureblood witch. "Is there anything I can do for now?"

Tom was slightly amazed at the boy's willingness to help, how he practically volunteered for work immediately and swallowed his pride in order to associate with Fowl. Then he shook his head faintly. "Not yet." He was unsure if he could even make use of Avery. But perhaps two purebloods were better than one, though he had no plans to allow the other Slytherin into the few circle of privileged people, who knew his secret. So far there were two and he trusted neither. However, if Tom had to be completely honest with himself, he would prefer Avery had discovered his secret rather than Fowl. "I believe it is almost time for dinner," he pushed off the bed and felt his legs stiff from coldness, first now noticing exactly how freezing cold the dormitory had turned.

As they headed down the corridors of the dungeons, Tom silently counted the remaining days before the return of the other students. The footsteps of his fellow Slytherin echoed between the walls, but soon they would be drowned out in the sound of voices and clatter; a ghostly pale woman floating feet above the ground appeared through one of the stone walls and, with a faint Christmas greeting in their direction, passed through on the other side of the hall. They climbed the steps to the Entrance Hall, Tom's eyes flickering towards the four hourglasses. He had almost forgotten _that_ minor problem.

They strode through the open door, across the floor towards the cheerfully decorated table which was close to abandoned with a sole exception. Fowl did not even glance up in their direction, but had her attention fixated down into the pages of a thick and heavy book; mechanically twirling her spoon through a bowl of steaming vegetable soup with one hand, she seemed far too consumed to eat a thing. Avery had stopped in his track and rather displeasingly glared at her, both arms crossed across his chest as he snapped: "Have your parents not taught you not to read at the table? Where are your manners?"

"Have your parents not taught you not the disturb people as they read? Where are _your _manners?" The girl responded, but without as much as a hint of her usual vigour that she normally used when arguing with Avery. She turned a page. Tom rolled his eyes, although he was somewhat hopeful; he preferred she would not taunt the pureblood further. He pulled out a chair at her side, knowing they would probably be joined by the Gryffindors later and the third Slytherin followed suit. From the corner of an eye, he spotted her gaze flash towards him before it once more returned to the book; he glanced past her twirling hand, trying to make out the arched writing.

Avery was, muttering to himself, poking the small Christmas trees the size of a finger that had replaced the dancing snowman couple from the last dinner. "Whoever did this really has nothing better to do …" Rather than paying further attention to either side of him, Tom decided he preferred to finish his dinner early and, if lucky, escape what would undoubtedly be a disaster with the appearance of the rival House.

Unfortunately he only made it halfway through the main course when they arrived. No one spoke as the three Gryffindors each pulled out a chair across the table; he curtly gave a nod in their direction, but only received a response from the girl, who smiled faintly mostly in Elana's direction. Both Potters were intently exchanging glares with Avery.

"So it's three on three now, eh? You called in backup I see," the older brother jeered, making a big show of eyeing the Slytherin. "Not that it will help, though." But, much to Tom's surprise, Avery had absolutely no intention of responding and merely returned his taunt with a polite smile. It seemed he had no reason to.

"No matter how many we are, Mr. Potter, there is no reason for any of us to as much as raise a wand." Eyes still trailing over the pages of the book, Fowl responded. The Slytherin purebloods apparently had an unspoken treaty, despite all disagreements, to unite against a common enemy; _blood traitors_. Yet another thing Tom could add to his list of astonishing pureblood behaviours. "Rumours has it you blew yourself up in the last Defence Against the Dark Arts class, a day in the Hospital Wing, am I correct?" The far older boy shot her a dirty look, clearly taken by surprise, but he quickly regained his posture.

He was unable to hide his sneer.

Fowl intervening unfortunately escalated the problem, as the younger Potter was now forced to step into the fight. "And how long did _you_ spent in the Hospital Wing after I jinxed you?" The third Gryffindor, the girl, heaved an exasperated sigh, shook her head and pushed away her plate. Then she silently followed track of the conversation. With almost a slam, the pureblood witch closed her book dignified and looked up.

"Do you really want to go there, Mr. Potter?"

"Perhaps I do, Miss Fowl."

The witch cautiously placed her spoon into her bowl of, now most likely cold, soup, all indifference stripped from her face. Tom knew the incoming bickering would get dragged out for the rest of the dinner and in stead attempted to get a proper look at the book at his side; but Fowl leaned across the table, blocked his view and shot the youngest Potter a dark look. But before she had a chance of another venomous remark, the brother asked a question with a wide smirk: "I've been wondering … Exactly what did you do to get deducted _that_ many points?"

Fowl inhaled sharply, eyes narrowed. Tom on the other hand looked at nothing but the table in front of him; doing everything possible to avoid the questioning glances from Avery, as he would have no explanation to give to the other. What was there to say? They snuck out, got caught and were now most likely the cause to why Slytherin would for the first time in years not win the House Cup. "We decided to give Gryffindor a chance of actually winning," she remarked. With that, the witch quickly picked up her book and left the table, a small glance in Avery's direction.

She had done everything she could to hide it, but Tom had instantly latched onto her tone. He dreaded the Slytherins' reactions but apparently not as much as her; Elana Fowl was scared … He noticed the other pureblood Slytherin was, eyes wide open, staring intently down into the table as if trying to burn through it. Unable to press anything else down, he quickly followed suit and left the Great Hall for the dungeons. He glanced to every side as he went, making sure he would not miss the witch on his way. It was a terrifying feeling, not knowing what could possible scare her that much. But then he was suddenly reminded of something he continuously seemed to forget.

She was only eleven years old. So was he.

They were far in over their heads.

Tom had gone straight up to the boys' dormitories after checking the common room. The witch was nowhere to be seen and perhaps it was for the better; he did not really wish to see her face, not when she was struggling hard to hide her fear. He sat down into his bed and stared ahead. His eyes watered, but he had no energy to even blink; his mind felt jumbled at the thoughts, swirling around as he tried to put everything into order. He did not even hear Avery enter until the other boy spoke: "What happened?" Having expected a harsh, blaming tone, he was taken aback by the voice, almost laced with concern.

But not towards Tom. The black haired wizard rummaged through the nearly dark room, but shortly after he had ignited the fire with his wand; shadows blazed up as the flames did, illuminating the green and black room. The three unused beds had been made and Tom noted it in the back of his head. Everyone seemed to be returning soon. "I prefer for the details of the incident to be kept secret," he worded tiredly, stifling a yawn. "It will do no good if people knew the reason."

They both changed without a word after that. Tom was the first to slide down under his covers, feeling sleep slowly creep over him; the last couple of days had been exhausting, but he knew what was about to come would be far worse. The room was not as cold as earlier. He watched the pureblood across the floor, eyes trailing over the pale skin and the hollow eyes, making the other wizard seem even more drained than him. "I guess that leaves me no choice but to talk to her."

That was the last Tom heard before he dozed off into an unruly sleep.

* * *

It appeared like Avery had managed to catch the witch in the common room the morning after, because when Tom stepped out into the room, they were both there. She stood up, staring into the flames of the fireplace, while he sat in one of the armchairs; neither spoke. Unsure if he should allow them to sort it out on their own or join them, Tom in the end decided to take a seat; if Fowl planned to share the details of their punishment he would prefer to know. They barely recognized his existence.

"If you explain the situation to me I might be able to help."

She shook her head, making strands of black hair fly out to the sides. Both her arms were crossed over her chest, her mouth contracted into a thin line as if she refused to speak; Tom fumbled with the hem of his shirt, somewhat feeling rather unwelcome to just sit and do nothing but listen. Maybe it had been better if he had just walked out of the room. "We both know there is nothing to be done."

"I can help-"

"No," she cut him off sharply, turning around to face him. "Listen, both of you really," her eyes flickered towards Tom. So she had actually noticed him being there. "If people ask, I would rather neither of you have anything to do with it – even you, Tom. You can not as much as mention anything," she looked from both of them; Avery looked displeased with the situation. "Allow me to explain then. It is by far easier for me to handle the consequences of our actions, if I do not have to worry about someone else messing up. So stay out of it."

Avery sighed. "You know how it will end."

"It is easier for all of us this way," the witch continued, her voice tired of constantly trying to persuade the other pureblood. "Imagine what trouble Tom will be in when they hear I not only disgraced myself and my family, but that I did it with the help of a half-blood. How do you think that would look?"

Tom froze and stared at her, mouth open in disbelief before he turned towards Avery.

_Half-blood_.


	18. Chapter XVIII

_Reviews are always welcome, so please drop one when done reading! Means a lot to the poor person who actually writes this - aka me - so thanks beforehand! :)_

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter XVIII

* * *

Inhaling sharply, Tom's attention flickered from one pureblood to the other. His palms instantly became clammy as he attempted to create eye contact with the witch; but there was no indication in her features that she had noticed her mistake. She ran her fingers through her hair as she brushed it back, and then looked up in Tom's direction. "There is no point fretting over my choice of words, Riddle; I strongly doubt Avery has not figured out your heritage before now."

Avery shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. "I had a feeling something was off from the beginning, but I decided it had nothing to do with me whatever the truth was." The pureblood scratched the brink of his nose with a finger, leaning back against the soft cushions. "And for all I care you could even be a Mudblood. As long as _that_ information stays within a certain range of people, then it shouldn't create any problems for me; I trust you, Tom, no matter what blood runs in your veins."

Tom, completely speechless at that point, watched the other wizard with a mixture of uncertainty and – and what exactly? An almost fuzzy warm feeling had crept over him, as if he really did regard the pureblood boy as a _friend_. "Well, all this is highly touching …" The witch sat down at the edge of the table, stretched both her legs out in front of her and, twirling her wand between two fingers thoughtfully, watched Avery sharply. "Can I trust you will speak to no one of this matter?"

He waved her off with a hand. "Of course you can. As much as I enjoy you getting into trouble, I know exactly when to stop as well." A corner of her mouth edged upwards into a small smirk and she nodded, quickly pushing herself off of the table again. Then, as she motioned to leave, her eyes briefly caught Tom's as if silently beckoning for him to follow her out of the common room; apparently her conversation with the pureblood had ended, but she still had unfinished business with the half-blood.

"Avery, if you could perhaps-"

The boy rolled his eyes and, before Tom could even finish his sentence, trudged out of the common room past the witch. "I'll go get some breakfast." With an eyebrow raised in part amusement, Elana glanced after the pureblood before her attention was directed towards Tom; he returned her gaze with an unreadable look, crossed his arms across his chest and waited for her to speak.

"Everyone returns in two days."

He nodded. "Yes?"

"If my predictions come true," running her fingers through her long, black hair, she heaved a sigh. "-which they most likely will unfortunately, I will have to ask you a favour. Do _not_ look further into anything related to Parseltongue, Salazar Slytherin or bloodlines whatsoever; just keep a very low profile and stick with, at least, Avery at all times, unless you wish to be snatched in the corridors and hexed until you can barely walk again. No matter what, avoid my brother's friends or you will make things worse; not only for yourself but for me."

"Is that strictly necessary?" Tom felt almost annoyed at her sudden commands, asking him to not look further into his family's past; to just ignore what could possibly be the greatest discovery for him? As if that would happen. He leaned back in his seat to get a better view of the witch, his mouth contracting into a frown at his irritation. "I mean-"

"_No._ Do not even bother arguing with me right now," she quickly snapped back at him; it seemed her patience was wearing thin as well, as she once more ran her fingers through her hair. "You have to practically make yourself invisible for the next couple of weeks. I will make sure my brother will not be able to get within reach of you, but I am unable to control neither Gamp nor Selwyn. _They _are the ones you have to look out for; if you do not believe me then fine. Ask Avery, he will tell you exactly the same thing."

Tom sighed. A brief silence fell over the two first years as he tried to make sense of it all. "Why would it be necessary for me to avoid attention if I, according to you, have nothing to do with the entire incident? The reduction of Slytherin points was due to something _you_ did, why should I have to go through so much trouble? Unless …" With a groan, he burrowed his face in his hands at the sudden recollection. There was one small thing he had forgotten.

"If they as much as suspect you had anything to do with it, just the slightest hunch, then they will be over you like hawks. And do you really think no one will notice your detention with Slughorn until the year ends? That is practically like yelling a confession to the entire school." She shuffled through her robe pockets, quickly pulling out a rolled piece of parchment and weighed it carefully in her palm. "Which is why we have to control the situation from the very beginning, before things get out of hand."

He heard footsteps as the witch moved towards the entrance. Tom felt overwhelmed, frustrated and almost confused. He felt his nail dig into his scalp, the small, prickling pain helped him keep focus. It was easier for the witch, as she at least knew what exactly was going on, while he was left somewhere in the middle of it all. Sure, he had expected they would become unpopular – perhaps even hated – by the Slytherins, but that was not even something she had taken into consideration; almost as if it was not important. "Where are you going?"

"Damage control."

* * *

Tom had gone through the rest of the day in a haze. His mind was so jumbled with thoughts that he was barely able to remember where he was; luckily he was not forced to speak or interact much with the two other Slytherins. After the conversation in the common room, he had seen nothing of the witch. Avery seemed just as absentminded as Tom felt, which for once led to an awkward silence at the dinner table that evening.

The two Potter brothers, feeling victorious from their last encounter, attempted to taunt the only other pureblood present into another verbal fight. Though, it was in vain. Avery seemed so out of it that he hardly knew what, or if, he was eating; in the end everyone finished in silence and left the table, the Gryffindors completely taken aback by the sudden loss of interest from the rival house. Tom spent the night awake, staring up into the dark ceiling above, but when morning arrived it all changed …

His roommate had burst through the door with such a ruckus that Tom almost jinxed him in surprise. "We have to do something!" Eyes groggy with sleep, he tried to focus on the pureblood in front of him; Avery was downright frantic, already pulling Tom out of bed by the arm as he slurred out words that barely made any sense. "If we don't stop her …" He yanked his arm free and oppressed the urge to slap some sense into the pureblood. Carefully inhaling, he held up both hands and tried to catch the other's attention.

"_What_ are you talking about?"

"It's Fowl, she- just come!"

Beyond confused, Tom followed the wizard down into the common room. His ears caught on to the sound of voices, both politely cheerful towards each other as if nothing was wrong; but everything apparently was, if you asked the pureblood. The Potions master looked up towards them, a bright smile in place at their arrival. "Ah! Good morning to you boys! I certainly do not hope my early visit woke you up, now that it's holidays and all. I was only here to get Miss Fowl for the headmaster then I'll be on my way again."

Tom instantaneously returned the professor's greeting respectfully by habit, but his eyes sought out the girl's. Fowl was smiling calmly next to the burly man, while her fingers secured the travelling coat around her shoulders; but her eyes held Tom's and they silently exchanged looks. "I hope everything is alright, sir?"

They still watched each other as the older wizard responded, his tone continuously merry: "Oh yes, of course. There has been a small situation in Miss Fowl's family and they requested her home for a few days," Slughorn placed a hand on the witch's shoulder and, with a smile, looked down towards her. "Shall we?" She nodded in response. Tom knew it was a part of her plan, but uneasiness swelled up in his stomach; the feeling was amplified by the countless tugs at his sleeve as Avery attempted to get his attention.

"We have to stop her from going."

"Why?"

"_Why_? Because her family-"

But Tom did not even need to hear the rest, her eyes and the terrified Avery had made everything clear. Still in his nightwear he climbed out of the entrance into the dungeons, the pureblood in tow. "Where were they headed?" It may be he did not completely understand the situation, or the opponents, but he understood perfectly she had sacrificed herself to protect him. If anything, they could at least share the burden as friends.

"The headmaster's office."

_Friends_. As they took the steps two at a time, they finally caught up with the wizard and witch on the second floor stairs; Slughorn was taken by surprise at the sight of the two boys. Both of them were breathing heavily at the foot of the stairs; but his vision of the professor was blocked as the girl had quickly gone to meet them. She looked from one to another. "What are you doing?" Fowl asked with an eyebrow raised, her smile in place for the sake of the audience, but her arms were tightly crossed across her chest.

"We're here to rescue you," the wizard at his side breathed, his voice low to avoid their conversation to reach the now curious Potions master's ears. "You can thank us later, let's go."

When she rolled her eyes in exasperation, the situation changed instantly.

"First of all, thank you for your concern, but _I_was the one who contacted my parents. I knew very well they would ask for permission to get me home, although it was most likely more of a demand than anything, and I will of course answer their summoning. Even though I can understand your concerns, Avery, you should well know that this is a matter between my family and I. I hope you will stay out of it," her attention turned towards Tom. "I do hope you will follow my advice."

He sighed. "Yes."

"Excellent. I shall see you both when I return."

With a frustrated groan, Avery leaned against the railings and shrugged resigned towards Tom. "Now what?"

"We keep a low profile for now."

He watched her retreating back, her black hair slowly brushing back and forth for every step she took, before she disappeared along with the professor down the hallway. He then turned back towards the dungeons, made sure Avery followed, and walked away. Fowl was calculating and smart, she would have the situation under control and have predicted the outcome, or she would never have sent word to her parents; as long as he did not mess up with his half, it should be fine. For now he had to abandon any thoughts of his heritage ...


	19. Chapter XIX

Thanks to the two people that reviewed :) Appreciate it very much to know there's at least two decent people out there! I mean no offense to the rest of my readers of course, I'm glad people enjoy my story enough to read it, but reviewers give inspiration to actually continue - possitive feedback, or heck, feedback in total is very much welcome.

But enjoy chapter 19 even though it is very short - I just wanted to update it and I'd rather wait with next part for chapter 20, since ... I just do. Enjoy!

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter XIX

* * *

The door creaked open into what Elana assumed was the Headmaster's office. She quickly entered after the bulky Potions Master into the well lit room; her eyes briefly scanned over the many portraits of slumbering witches and wizards before directing her attention towards the second wizard in the office. The balding Headmaster, Armando Dippet, looked up at their arrival, his lips curled into a thin smile while he motioned towards a roll of parchment across his desk. "There you are, Miss Fowl." His voice was crisp and low as he greeted her.

"Good morning, Headmaster, I am sorry for any inconvenience my family might have caused." Slughorn, partly wheezing from the trip from the Slytherin common room, immediate assaulted the only vacant chair. Her apologies were instantly waved off by the old wizard.

"Fear not, child, I was awake when I received the owl. Your parents have asked for your return home for a couple of days and, even though classes begin tomorrow, I see no harm in allowing their request." Elana smiled politely, but she knew very well that the wizard had no actual say in the matter; if her parents wanted her home then she most certainly would end up home, with or without the Headmaster's permission. "You will use the Floo Network from the fireplace, if you please."

Elana crossed the floor and scooped up a handful of the silvery powder offered to her by Dippet. Then, with two pair of eyes on her, she found herself staring into the small, nearly extinguished flames of the fireplace; with a deep breath she tossed the Floo Powder in and watched as the flames turned emerald green before, slightly bowing her head, slipping into the fire. "Darkwood Manor," she nodded at the two wizards just as the flames shot up on both sides of her. Her body was whirled around in a haze of flames and blurred images of fireplaces, coming and going in and out of her vision until she was suddenly pulled to a stop.

Finding her feet on solid ground once more, Elana stepped out into the familiar library. The faint rays of morning sunlight entered through the grand windows, making the dusty air glitter slightly and she scanned the room; she had expected her parents to be over her like hawks the minute she had arrived at the manor, but it seemed no one was there to welcome her. Deciding to quickly take advantage of the situation, she strode across the marble floor towards the oldest section of the library.

It was very rare that she got permission to take any of the books involving Dark Arts, but now that she was not under surveillance there was perhaps enough time to find anything useful, preferably before someone became aware of her arrival. Unfortunately for Elana, the library door creaked open. Only a few steps away from the first shelf her brother had entered the room. "And _what_ are you doing?" He asked her, his eyes flickering towards the books before his attention fell on her. Suppressing a sigh, Elana withdrew from the forbidden section and walked over.

"Nothing."

An eyebrow rose partly in her direction as he held the door open and, eyes fixated onto the floor below, Elana slipped out into the cold corridor. The light from the arched windows were drowned out by heavy, dark drapes and the hallway was covered in a suffocating darkness that she was all too used to. Their footsteps echoed throughout the mansion as she followed Elliot. "What were you thinking?" His voice broke the tense silence, looking back down upon her. "Do you know how lucky you are that _I_ received the letter and not father?"

Elana's mouth contracted into a thin line, knowing well the consequences of her actions. Yes, taking the full blame would normally have been close to suicide, but she had one more trick up her sleeve. One last card to play. "I was hoping you got a hold of it first," she reached out and gently grabbed hold of his sleeve. The wizard was forced to a complete stop. Her lips curled into a wide smirk, knowing well her previous state of disfavour would be instantly forgotten. The Fowl family had waited for this for centuries.

"Why?"

She had made Riddle believe she would bear the burden alone, manipulated him to trust her; it had never been part of her plan, but with everything that had happened it seemed luck had been on her side. Everything had worked out perfectly, everyone had played directly into her hands. Slughorn discovering them in Hogsmeade. Their punishment. The consequences. Of course she had hoped to keep her trumph card hidden a bit longer, but still. It was her win. "I found the _heir_."

* * *

With a boom of clatter and noise, the other students returned to Hogwarts the day after; Tom had almost become used to the abandoned hallways and school grounds, and they were all too soon filled with wizards and witches who were eager to catch up after the holidays. Avery and he leaned against the railings on top of the stairs, overlooking the Entrance Hall where the robe clad students filed in, busily chatting. "So if anyone asks, we will deny knowing anything about the reduction of points?"

Tom scanned the crowd of Slytherins as they vanished down the steps towards the dungeons, trying to make out familiar faces; he had spotted the three first year purebloods just earlier, but they had not seemed to notice him. Not that it bothered him. Even though his mind denied it, he knew exactly who he was hoping to see. "Yes," two older wizards caught his attention and he quickly glanced away. Avery rested his face in his hands; elbows on the marble railings, his eyes trailed over the entrance uninterested.

"Such a pain," he heaved a loud sigh, though apparently did not pry further into the situation. "But then again I really do have no idea how it happened. And," with a short glance towards Tom, Avery turned his attention back towards the staircase. "I imagine you have no plans of telling me either …?"

"You are correct in that assumption." Fewer and fewer students entered until the Hall was empty once more. He briefly considered whether to return to the Slytherin dormitories or avoid the impending bickering between the purebloods; Lestrange would without a doubt throw himself at Avery the minute they laid eyes on each other and Tom did not mind stalling for that. A freezing coldness hung in the air that had seeped in from the open doors, almost so that he could see his own breath crystallizing in front of him. His fingers ached. But then again, rather get it over with …

They shortly after fought their way through the common room, weaving in and out between the Slytherin students that had completely overtaken the couches and tables, then climbed the stairs to the first years' dormitory. With a hand on the doorknob, Avery glanced back towards Tom, a sour expression across his face. "There is a chance they also know of your blood status," he said hesitantly.

Tom nodded. "I know." If the black haired wizard had figured it out that easily, then the much more cunning Mulciber would probably have known from the beginning, not to mention the two other purebloods. _Though_, as Tom tried to reassure himself, _they have yet to make comments about it_. Hinges groaning, the sturdy door was pushed open and the loud sound instantly caught the three wizards' attention; Nott barely looked up before he continued unpacking his suitcase, apparently not all too interested in their arrival, but both Mulciber and Lestrange, who lay sprawled across their beds, glared.

"So, what exactly happened during the holiday for Slytherin to suddenly be _second_ in house points if I may ask?" Lestrange swung his legs over the edge of his bed and sat up. He eyed Tom and Avery, immediately cutting to the point. "After all our hard work _someone _ruins it in just what? A week? Imagine those blood traitors in Gryffindor laughing at us, heck no, we're pretty much the laughingstock of the entire school!"

Avery let out a laugh. "What _hard work_? You have barely done anything that deserves praise so don't try to pretend otherwise. And it's not like either of us had anything to do with this, so spare me for your intolerable nagging." A brief, almost astonished silence settled over the group at the young pureblood's words; even Tom had been taken aback by the sudden change of tone. It appeared Lestrange was at a complete loss of words and was left to merely stare at the wizard.

The blonde pureblood opened and closed his mouth, gaping as he attempted to come up with a clever comeback. Unfortunately for him, Mulciber cut him off and joined the conversation with fingers pressed to his temples. "So you are saying that neither of you had anything to do with the deduction of points?" Tom eyed him thoughtfully and noted how the pureblood wizard seemed even paler than usual, if that was even possible. Was he ill? "No one else was here over Christmas."

"Actually," this time Tom spoke up slowly as he made his way across the room. The mattress complained lowly at the sudden change of weight. "Fowl was here." The faint crackle of burning wood and the chatter from the dormitory reached his ears as the three wizards fell into deep thought. His eyes flickered towards Avery, who merely shrugged in return. "If you are all that curious you should ask her when she returns."

They stared. "Sorry, _what_?"


	20. Chapter XX

Three people reviewed on the previous chapter and one on chapter I, which makes four (pro math skillz right there!) reviews in total since my last update and so thank you very much for that! I still do hope more will indulge in this extremely fun and amazing wonder of the world that is reviewing, but I'm glad as long as someone takes a little time to post a few words :) You don't have to write much, just "thanks for updating" or possibly critique or feedback to what could be changed and so on. It helps a lot.

But do enjoy chapter 20! Woo, I've gotten this far and I made this chapter a long one! I have trouble descriping Elana's parents as I have an idea of their personality but it's quite complicated ... as, if I may say so, it is messed up. I'm no good at messed up!

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter XX

* * *

Elana thoughtfully played with the hem of her school robes and shifted lightly in the armchair, eyes lingering on her brother across of her. Elliot had immediately sent word to their parents and the siblings were now waiting in silence for their arrival in the grand living room. The ornate fireplace had been lit earlier and the wood crackled, making small specks of ash flutter into the air; she felt horrible for having to face her mother and father, but knew she had no other choice.

The room was spacious and light compared to the rest of the mansion; one wall was made out of a row of windows, allowing a great view of the back garden. The world outside was covered in a heavy layer of snow, the rose bushes completely hidden from sight and icicles hung from the trees, sparkling in the faint morning sun even from across the lawn. Everything had gone wrong ...

Tom Riddle's extraordinary powers would have been a greater asset if kept secret, but because of her foolish adventure into Hogsmeade there was nothing else to do than to play that card now. How things would develop from this point onwards was beyond her, though she would make sure to direct it in her preferred direction. And Tom's. "I only have limited information, but I can not come up with any other plausible explanation."

Her older brother, who had walked back and forth across the dark woven carpet in contemplation, paused briefly and looked at her. "You are absolutely sure it was Parseltongue?" She nodded in response. "There have been no previous records of that ability appearing outside of that family so you are most likely correct. For your sake I hope so."

She certainly hoped so as well.

Elana pursed her lips, eyes narrowing slightly as two figures appeared in the middle of the room. They had Apparated together, she noted, and a feeling of relief washed over her; at least they were on good terms with each other that day. That would mean they were in a, somewhat, _good_ mood. Quickly rising to her feet to greet her parents, her gaze flickered towards her brother. "Why are you two not at school?" Her father's sharp, stern voice broke the silence first and, without a single look in her direction, walked towards Elliot. "This has better be important."

With her eyes fixated on her father's back, on the black hair that both siblings had inherited, and the billowing Ministry robes, it was first when she felt the touch of a hand against her head, gently stroking her hair, that Elana looked away. "Of course, father, I know not to disturb otherwise." Her mother's lips were drawn back into a thin, pale line, her grey blue eyes tinted with disapproval but at least she greeted her only daughter. Elana felt like shoving her away; she had no use for fake care. "It appears a Parselmouth has appeared in Hogwarts."

And as expected, the bond was short-lived and instantly broke at her brother's words. The pressure against her head was lifted. "Are you absolutely certain?" The older witch no longer had an eye for her own daughter at her son's words; Elana suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. If her mother wanted to pretend to care for her then she had a long way to go. There was no chance she would fall for such a half-hearted act. "Elliot, are you telling the truth?"

"Yes. Elana heard it." Their eyes locked, both aware of the mistake he had just made.

Her mother turned to her with a sneer across her face, a strand of light brown hair falling in front of her eyes. "You should know better than to believe the words of the greatest disappointment in the family." _Such kind words_, Elana clenched her teeth and stood completely still. They never believed her. "What little lies are you spewing this time?" But then again, she could see why.

"I told him exactly what I heard," she began slowly, carefully weighing her words. "I would not lie about something this important. I _did _hear him speak Parseltongue. He is a Slytherin in my year and I have already gained his trust. If you do not believe me then so be it, but can you really take such a risk and let the actual heir go like this?" She knew neither of her parents ever believed a word she said. Nevertheless, with the prospect of _finally_ getting their long awaited revenge on Salazar Slytherin, they had to hope her words were true.

Which they were. For once.

"If you lie …"

* * *

Tom's brow was furrowed in thought as he leaned against the cold stone wall in the dungeons. He stood alone and, partly absentminded, scanned the crowd of Gryffindors that had filled the hallway, all waiting to enter the New Year's first Potions class; he noticed the youngest Potter brother animatedly chatting up two other boys and the brown haired girl from earlier. At the sight of the laughing girl he could not help but to, once more, be concerned with the Slytherin witch that had yet to return to Hogwarts after her sudden departure.

What was she up to? _'__Damage control'_. There was no doubt she was scheming something, but what? He, heaving an irritated sigh, ran a hand through his dark hair as he was apparently once more left out in the dark. If only Fowl would share what she knew with him it would become so much easier, but no, there was apparently no need to tell him _anything_! He hated that feeling. To be totally uninformed and irrelevant. "Did you finish your _Wiggenweld Potion_ essay?"

Dragged out of his train of thought, Tom curtly greeted the pureblood with a nod, the frustrating and queasy sensation in the pit of his stomach subsiding slightly. _Stop thinking about it, Tom. _But he could not help to feel as if the witch purposely did not tell him anything and, even with everything she had done, he knew he could still not trust her. She was without a doubt highly skilled in deceit and lies and could just as well be playing him directly into the palm of her hand. Tom was attempting the same against her so why would she not?

"Yes," he motioned towards the three rolls of parchment in his left hand. Tom had been too caught up in everything else that he had almost forgotten to add the finishing touch, which resulted in him slaving his way through books in the common room half the night. His eyelids felt heavy but the cold and clammy air of the dungeons kept him painfully awake. Avery clasped his hands together and beamed at him almost apologetic.

"Mind if I just quickly …?" The pureblood did not even need to finish his request before Tom handed over his essay. "Brilliant, thanks." The wizard rummaged through his robes and quickly pulled out a bunch of crumpled looking papers and smoothened out the work against the wall; he then scribbled away in quite the hurry, blurring out the ink letters as he went. "I was thinking that, since you need to keep a low profile, we shouldn't show ourselves in the Great Hall more than necessarily and could in stead eat in the kitchen?"

Tom's eyebrow scooted up interested. "You know where the entrance is?"

"Yeah, my cousin told me of it when I was home for Christmas. There's barely anyone that knows of the secret entrance and you can pretty much talk without interruptions. The house-elves won't tell anything to anyone, really. At least they are good for that."

His curiosity had been awakened. Tom had never really thought of _where _the countless dishes for the bountiful feasts, served several times a day in the Great Hall, came from and he was eager to discover another of Hogwarts' secrets. "Very well, it is probably for the better." The three purebloods had questioned him the night before, but he had made sure to brush off their inquiries without giving any information away, and the rest of the school was probably just as interested in Slytherin's sudden loss of points as they had been.

To think one trip to Hogsmeade could cause so much trouble. He heaved a sigh, turning his attention towards the nearest door and awaited the professor; raised in the orphanage, Tom struggled to understand the pureblood mindset, their pride in their family lineage and distaste towards those that were different from themselves. A clear example was the hostility towards purebloods of different Houses.

Lestrange, Mulciber and Nott had arrived as if to prove Tom's point, the first bumping shoulders with Potter and instantaneously anger flared up between the two groups. "Watch it," the Gryffindor boy growled annoyed, sourly brushing his arm as he turned to face the wizards. Lestrange, with a smirk across his face, crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow.

"Did _that_ hurt? Poor little blood traitor."

Avery briefly glanced up in the direction of the noise, rolled his eyes and returned to basically copying the essay in front of him. "They have to be stupid to start a fight _now_," he muttered under his breath, unable to hide the edge of glee that laced his voice. Tom agreed. It would not be long before Slughorn would open the door to the Potions classroom and catch them in the act; if they had wondered how to lose points they would experience it first hand any minute now.

Potter quickly lessened the gap between himself and the Slytherin, forcefully pushing both hands against the other and made Lestrange stutter backwards. "How dare you lay your filthy hands on me?"

"If anyone's filthy it's you," he sneered in response. "Pureblood fanatic."

"What was that?"

"What? Fanatic? You are one, don't deny it."

The only thing that stopped Lestrange from basically throwing himself at Potter was the Potions master finally making an appearance. "There is a lot of noise coming from out here," Slughorn blocked the entire door with his bulky corpus, overlooking the gathered Gryffindors and Slytherins. "Who is kicking up a fuss?" When no one answered, not much for pointing out fellow classmates, he heaved a sigh and stepped aside into the room. "Very well, come in then and let's start."

Tom and Avery were some of the first in. Slipping past a few girls from his house, they quickly took what had become their usual seats at the back of the class; he placed his books on the table, shuffled through his bag for parchment and quills and pulled out a chair. "Pity they didn't get into trouble," the wizard at his side commented.

"Make sure to hand in your _Wiggenweld Potions_ essay before the end of class, any later than that will be marked as failed." The professor's chair complained lowly at the sudden change of weight, but he was too busy writing ingredients on the board with his wand to notice. "You will, in pairs, work on the Dreamless Sleeping Potion the next couple of lessons. Now, can anyone answer _why_ this specific potion needs so long to finish?" A couple of hands were raised, some more hesitant than others.

In order to keep up his appearance towards Slughorn, Tom was one of the few. The Head of House scanned over the class and picked a Gryffindor in one of the front desks. "The dittany needs to first boil in the Horklump juice and salamander blood mixture where after it takes four days before it reaches the correct stage to add the last ingredients. If added earlier the blood will crystalize and that can have severe consequences."

"I would hope a few more decides to partake in the class, or it will be shown in your grades soon." Slughorn scolded, looking in the direction of, mostly, the Slytherin girls, who had grouped up far to the left and were busily caught up chatting. "But, yes. Correct, Mr. Trigg, five points to Gryffindor for an excellent answer."

From the corner of an eye Tom saw a flicker of movement.

Potter had turned in his seat and gaily whispered in Lestrange's direction. "And Gryffindor takes the lead even further. Try and keep up, little snake." Tom's eyebrow scurried up. There had been occurrences even before the holidays where Slytherins had gotten into trouble with students from the other houses, but he had yet to witness such open hostility between the first years compared to what was happening now. "It seems like you aren't even trying."

"Then," the professor was still keeping his attention on the girls with an almost wicked grin, forcing them to smile awkwardly back at him, and did not notice the problems with the boys. The pureblood wizard, infuriated, tossed an open ink bottle at Potter when the latter had turned back into his seat once more; a black liquid splattered out over the boy, completely soaking his white shirt and the back of his head. Those sitting closest to him fell victims as well, unfortunately in the line of fire. "Get to work-" Slughorn's smile faltered immediately.

At first he merely gaped, staring at the drenched boy to the purebloods, who were trying their hardest at holding back roaring laughter. Potter wiped his face with a sleeve from his already ruined shirt, a grim look spreading across his face as the snickers continuously grew in volume. "I'll make you pay ..."

"Who did this?" Slughorn inquired.

"It was Lestrange," it appeared that the rule of not ratting out others, even from a different house, had been annulled as a Gryffindor boy immediately pointed towards the Slytherins. Then again, half his face was dotted with black ink. "He threw ink at us, Sir."

The Professor heaved a sigh. "Congratulations, Mr. Lestrange, you just cost your House thirty points and earned a week of detention for yourself. Now, _everyone_, start working on your potions before I lose my patience with you all completely; this is not how you should deduct yourself in a school!" He waved his hand exasperated in the direction of the ink covered boy. "You as well, Mr. Potter, you can clean up after we are done here. I have no doubt you were partly to blame."

"Professor-"

"_Yes_?" He half-snapped.

The brown haired girl near Potter flinched at his harsh tone, completely freaked out but still managed to continue. "We are an uneven number today, someone will miss a partner. I can work alone until miss Fowl returns if needed?"

Slughorn lit up briefly. "You do that, miss Fielding. If only your classmates would follow your exemplary behaviour and get along even if in different houses." He shook his head and sighed. "If only."

After that, the classroom fell into a tense silence. Still in a foul mood, Professor Slughorn spent the rest of the time patrolling between the aisles of desks, making sure all the first years were focused on the cauldron in front of them. Tom was thankful to have picked the back of the room; the wizard rarely made it all the way down there and they had been too far away to have been apart of the earlier incident. He had not lost any points in Slughorn's book.

* * *

As soon as her feet touched the newly fallen snow on the ground she released her father's arm, almost as if her hand was scolded just by the mere touch. For the second time in less than two weeks Elana found herself in Hogsmeade, having arrived there once more this time by Side-Along Apparation. White flakes fluttered from the white and grey clouds high above but she could still faintly make out the silhouette of Hogwarts in the distance, the great castle towering towards the skies.

Her cheeks and ears were burning in the cold already as she had been instructed to travel only in her school uniform. They had missed enough classes as it was, so she had no time to change when they reached the castle. Elana took a step forward, but felt a large hand grip tightly around her wrist and she was forced to look back. "If you mess this up you know what will happen." Her father's dark, nearly black orbs locked with hers; completely devoid of emotions. Cold, dead eyes.

What most would find to be a warm and welcoming face with the wrinkles of age around his eyes, the greying hair and small dimples, Elana just found it downright terrifying. If one person should not have dimples it was her father. But then again, his polite face was reserved to people _outside_ the family. She did not even struggle against his grip. "I am well aware of that," she spoke, making sure her voice was calm even though she felt nowhere near at ease. "I will not fail." He kept her gaze for what seemed an eternity, but then he finally released her and turned to her brother.

Elliot had silently waited at their side. "Watch her and make sure she does not make any mistakes."

"Yes, father."

The head of her family strictly watched both of his children before nodding. "You know how important this is for the family. I will hold you both responsible for any failures; do not shame the Fowl name." He then Disapparated. Elana tugged her hands further down into her robe pockets, the biting cold wind brushing against her face and whipped up her hair; her brother heaved a sigh before he began walking towards the castle ahead.

She quickly followed after. "I do not know if you figured this out already, but I was not alone."

"I had a feeling it was something like that. If you were on your own you would not have been caught." He turned his face back to get a look at her. His dark blue eyes narrowed. "You need to cover for him. Why?"

Elana partially shrugged and then smiled. "Well, I have a plan ..."

* * *

Tom waited at the desk while Avery, fighting his way past the wizards and witches heading for the door, handed in their essays. He instantly noted how the groups had become more huddled, eyeing others warily almost as if they were expecting to be attacked if they as much as blinked. He felt like rolling his eyes. Everyone was acting peculiarly. Huffing slightly, the pureblood returned and slung his bag over a shoulder. "Let's go."

As they made it up the dungeon and further through the corridors of the school, they were soon joined by the older students. Loud voices, laughter and footsteps pressed in on him from all sides as they weaved in and out between the much taller witches and wizards. Luckily they had Transfiguration next and the classroom was located on the ground floor, making their journey only a short one. The downside was Tom had to spend two hours in the company of his most disliked professor. Dumbledore.

All he had to do was get it over with as fast as possible, hopefully avoiding eye contact with the old wizard; just the way Dumbledore looked at him sent chills down his spine, almost as if he could read his mind. The door to the classroom was open and Ravenclaw had taken their seats already. Tom attempted to brush off the uncomfortable feeling of having the professor knowing everything he thought.

A teacher probably was not allowed to do that anyways. Were they?

Once more claiming the seats at the back, Tom observed how the Slytherins and Ravenclaws interacted with each other; much to his surprise there was no change from their normal behaviour of, well, ignoring each other. It was probably the difference between the hot blooded Gryffindors and the calm, collected Ravenclaws that made the smarter of the two houses avoid an open fight. Luckily. The Potions lesson had been horrible and close to impossible to concentrate.

And so, without any incidents of any kind, the Transfiguration lesson started. Dumbledore had instructed them in how to turn a match into a needle and they then spent the rest of the class attempting to copy the professor. Tom, much to his own pleasure, had quickly picked up on it and was after only a few tries able to perform the transformation without problems; he did not feel like drawing attention to himself in this case, not wanting to converse with the elderly wizard. "I think there is something off with my matches," Avery muttered gruffly.

Tom looked down on the pureblood's latest failed attempt. He had managed to turn most of it into a thin, silvery needle but had run into troubles with the sulphur part. "It does not seem that bad," he commented, bored of the class as it was. A fairly large pile of needles rested in front of him at his desk. "Perhaps you need a bit more work, and then you will get there." The wizard scoffed but flicked his wand in another go.

"A _lot_ more work," he corrected as he tried to dig out another guinea pig from the matchbox. "But I can really see the point in this, sure! I can obviously make a splendid career or become the most powerful wizard just by mastering this skill. Clearly!" A feeling of being watched, Tom slowly looked up and almost immediately locked gazes with the professor. His light blue eyes sparkled in what could only be described as amusement; he quickly shushed Avery but Dumbledore had heard him.

"We all start somewhere, Mr. Avery, and work our way from there and upwards." His voice rang throughout the entire classroom, catching the attention of both houses. "Would you be able to perform powerful magic without the least bit of practice? To create great wonders such as making inanimate things come to life and answer to your every bidding? If so, I think you should stand at the front of class rather than I."

Avery seemed taken aback by the sudden confrontation and attention, and shook his head meekly. "No, sir, I clearly see what you mean."


	21. Chapter XXI

_Read this first, please!_

I'd first of all like to thank those that reviewed - once again, not that many, but thanks none the less. Secondly, I will apologize for my absence and lack of updates to any of my stories, but I had a point in time where I just didn't feel like writing. Why bother when it doesn't appear like anyone reads what I write? But I couldn't really stop my brain from working on this story even further and I have now managed to create ideas for Tom's seven years at Hogwarts - I'll see whether I will manage to write this entire story, which, in fact, is quite long, or if I will become one of those authors that never finish.

I'd prefer to do the first, though for that I would very much appreciate some constructive feedback and reviews. People should be kind enough to do that for all stories they read; at least if they find them interesting. If you don't like this story, I'd be amazed you've read this far and if you have, tell me in a CONSTRUCTIVE review and not just flames. I wish to improve.

With that said, I hope the reader will enjoy chapter 21 :) I will probably speed slightly faster through first year now as well, 21 chapters and they're only halfway through their first year. Or I'll make the chapters longer, then I'll at least not get as many chapters - I am sort of juggling a few plots and secrets that are becoming harder to keep track up, so I'm afraid I'll suddenly forget something; yet still I add more.

But imagine how long this story would become if I'd use 40 or more chapters a year. That'd be... like 300 chapters and each chapter is around 5-10 pages. So in total ... at least, 2000 pages. If this was an original work of fiction and not fanfiction, God... I could publish a book!

If only I was the creator of HP. Alas. I am not.

I also had trouble coming up with a house-elf name... was split between Dusty and Nut but went with Nut since that just makes me giggle. Nut. Heh... Anyone got some nice ideas for that since I don't really think either are perfect for an elf?

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter XXI

* * *

Avery mumbled annoyed under his breath as they gathered their belongings at the end of class. Every few seconds he shot a dirty look in the professor's direction, but had learned his lesson of vocally complaining in Dumbledore's presence. In stead he impatiently cut his way through the crowd of Ravenclaws and Slytherins to get some distance between himself and the elderly wizard; Tom took his time on the other hand, trying not to be fazed by the pair of light blue eyes that were attentively watching his every move through half-moon spectacles.

His attention flickered briefly towards the grand desk in the Transfiguration classroom and the bearded man, but then he quickly strode out of the room after the other first year students. As expected, he found Avery just outside and waiting for him, though his company caught Tom off guard. The witch nodded in his direction and pushed herself away from the wall to approach him. "I am back," she greeted. Her hair was damp and her school uniform almost soaked, but she appeared to be in a somewhat cheerful mood as she walked closer with Avery in tow.

"When did you get back?" Tom responded, quickly stepping to one side to clear a path for the other students; every so often a few people shot curious glances in their direction, but they were, once more, immediately on their way whenever Avery caught their gazes. The pureblood wizard cleared his throat annoyed and the two looked at him; Fowl raised an eyebrow inquisitively while Tom easily read the wizard's mind. Which somewhat surprised him, actually. "Shall we go somewhere more _private_?"

"If you still plan to keep a low profile I'd strongly suggest that," he responded sourly, glaring at a brown haired Ravenclaw boy who had steered a bit _too_ close to the small group. With Avery in the lead, they quickly joined the busy current of students, making their way towards the Great Hall for lunch. But in stead of following the rest through the grand double doors to the House tables, they steered off down a steep, spiral stairway. Tom had never been in this part of the castle before and had only seen Hufflepuffs come and go from there, so he assumed that their Common Room was located in the dungeon area, just as the Slytherins'.

Their footsteps echoed in the narrow space against the stone steps and the witch, trailing behind the two wizards, asked slightly suspicious: "And where exactly are we going?"

"I highly doubt either of you plan to sit anywhere near each other in the Great Hall, yet probably have some scheming to do, and I at least plan to get something to eat." Avery sounded almost pleased with his cryptic answer and being in charge for once. The unmistakable sound of an annoyed sigh reached his ears and he could not help but smirk; Tom certainly did not blame the pureblood wizard for enjoying the situation.

The stairs finally came to an end and led the three Slytherins into a warmly lit corridor below the castle; it was very much unlike the hallway to their own Common Room, which always had an eerie and clammy air about it. Torches burned brightly and, with a squeaking, high-pitched sound, the two large suits of armour across the hall turned their attention to the first years and watched them silently. "Are we allowed to be here?" Elana asked, arms crossed in front of her chest as she eyed the armours with an unreadable expression.

"Does that usually stop you?" Tom countered and received a chuckle in response.

The corner of her mouth turned upwards. "True."

"Of course we are! Well, I guess both the Hufflepuff Common Room and the kitchen are off limits. But we can be in the hallway," the third Slytherin grumbled, as holes started emerging in his plan, and walked past them towards the right. Tom created eye contract with the witch, who merely shrugged and followed Avery through the corridor. "There is never anyone who patrols here anyways and the house-elves won't tell us off."

"The worst that can happen would be detention and, frankly, that would not make any difference." She mused lowly.

The corridor had led them to a dead end. In front of them hung a large painting, portraying a bowl of various fruits – apples, pears, bananas, grapes – that basically covered the entire wall area; without hesitation Avery walked closer, running his finger over the ripe pear several times in what could only be described as tickling. Much to their surprise, a loud giggle emerged from the portrait and the fruit squirmed at his touch; then it suddenly warped around in odd directions, almost as if in spasms, and, before their very eyes, changed shape.

Tom raised an eyebrow, amused at the wondrous sight.

The pureblood grabbed around the green door handle and pulled down. With a low click the portrait creaked open to reveal the secret passageway into the kitchen and, smugly, Avery held the door open for them to enter first. "Ladies first," the witch rolled her eyes resigned at his behaviour but she still walked inside. Then she came to a sudden halt.

Tom and Avery quickly followed behind to behold the sight; small creatures weaved in and out between each other, carrying plates of food and kitchenware in a massive jumble of yet orderly chaos, while preparing lunch for the entire school. The air was warm and heavy from the massive ovens and hobs; voices merged into an unrecognizable mixture of sounds, accompanied with the loud clattering of brass pots and pans. The kitchen was grander than he had expected, much to Tom's surprise, and did not only hold the preparation area but five long tables; he instantaneously recognized them as exact replicas of the House tables in the Great Hall just above.

With small _plops_, nearly drowned out by the thunderous chaos of the kitchen, empty bowls and platters appeared all over the tables and were quickly carried off by house-elves to be replaced with new dishes that vanished almost as soon as they touched the wooden planks. So _that_ was how it worked. All three had they stopped on the spot at the sight in front of them, taken aback by the sheer size of the place but, from the corner of an eye, Tom saw a flicker of movement and glanced downwards.

One of the small creatures had discovered their presence and looked up at him with big, round eyes; the head was somewhat largely disproportioned compared to the rest of the body; with an array of wrinkles that gave the creature a sour expression, a long, sharp nose and pointed ears. But in its full height, with the lanky arms and legs, it barely reached Tom's waist and appeared almost child-like in comparison.

Still new to the magical world he was fascinated with the odd creature.

"Young masters," it croaked at them, eyes flickering between the three Slytherin students with both hands clasped in front of its chest. "What can Nut do for the masters?"

"We prefer to eat down here," Avery answered sharply, and Tom could not help notice how strict he sounded towards the house-elf, almost as if he was giving the small thing an order. Nut performed an odd bow at the wizard and scrambled towards the back of the kitchen.

His eyebrow furrowed at the situation, while the two purebloods seemed completely unfazed at the elf's behaviour and followed in between the other workers; whenever they passed a house-elf, it paused briefly with its work to eye them, and a few even joined Nut to assist him in setting up a small, oval table near a large, lit fireplace.

After they had dragged chairs over – with much trouble – the house-elves returned to their previous assignments, leaving only the old Nut to take orders. It shuffled closer to the table, and his oversized pair of clogs clacked loudly against the tile floor. "What would the masters like to eat?"

While Avery ordered lunch, seeing as neither Tom nor Elana appeared interested, Tom scanned the large kitchen once more and could not help notice how poorly dressed the house-elves were. They were, without exceptions as if it was their uniforms, clad in old rags, dirty with soot and grime that seemingly had never been washed; a female elf rushed past them, carrying a plate full of sausages, wearing only a pillowcase. "You better not complain about what I ordered," the wizard shifted in his chair. "Since you two didn't decide on anything I took it upon myself to do it."

Tom looked back onto the pureblood. "Anything is fine." An eyebrow scooted up and the wizard across the small table narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "What?"

"I should be asking that." With an exasperated sigh, the pureblood wizard leaned back in his seat and stretched his legs below the table; he then continued with ruffling his hair, making it stand up to all sides, before finally looking straight back towards Tom. "I am fairly sure both of you are plotting something, and it would be a lot easier for me to help _if _I actually had the faintest clue of what is going on." Tom's attention flickered towards the girl to his left, but she seemed completely lost in thought, staring into the flames of the fireplace, and would be of no help to him.

He heaved a frustrated sigh. "I would not mind explaining the situation to you, Avery, if I in fact _knew_ what exactly the situation was. But right now, I think the only one who knows what is going, is Fowl." At the mentioning of her name, the witch blinked rapidly and looked from one wizard to the other; she was about to retort when the house-elf returned with a tray brimming with food.

Both Avery and Tom ignored the small creature and watched her attentively, but she had already directed her attention to the elf. Nut efficiently placed plates and cups in front of each of them, careful not to draw attention to himself yet failed at that, quickly followed by a small basket of freshly baked buns. And then he was gone. Fowl took her time pouring steaming hot tea up for herself, well aware of their gazes; lacing her fingers around the warm mug, she then looked back up. "What?"

"Don't pretend you didn't hear us." Avery glared at the girl while snatching up a bun from across the table. Tom did not exactly feel hungry and in stead leaned back in his chair, slowly falling into deep thoughts and his brow furrowed in response. He silently watched the two purebloods; the girl smiled briefly, once more pressing the mug to her lips in order to stall for more time, but then her eyes hardened. She clicked her tongue in disapproval.

"Well," she began, clearly weighing her words with great care. Fowl probably had no plans to explain the situation entirely, but rather share only pieces of information that were crucial for Avery and Tom to know; the very thought infuriated him. If the witch thought she could play around with him as a mere pawn in some game of hers, she was very much mistaken. "I do not quite see any reason as to why we are having this conversation, but very well, I shall play along. Riddle has been marked by my brother from almost the beginning of the year, due to … certain events and we are juggling with a few, insignificant _lies_ that I think we both would prefer to be kept a secret."

"Such as?"

Tom slowly counted the lies that, put together, created quite an intangible web of trouble for Fowl and him. _Such trouble_.

"Riddle's status as a pureblood would be the first, which of course did not go according to my plans." He shot a pointed look in her direction, knowing that _that_ small, white lie had caused him more trouble than it had actually helped him. The first years were barely noticed by the older students, but amongst the Slytherins of his own year had probably picked up on the lie awhile back. When it would resurface to cause trouble he did not know, but Tom expected it would at some point in time backfire onto both him and the witch with immense consequences. "Then of course there is the fact that Riddle foolishly – yet much to my amusement I might add – introduced himself to my brother as _Peter Avery_."

The silence that followed her words was astounding; the pureblood wizard had frozen in complete shock, his eyes widening as the information was processed. "So- he then … No wait. Then-?" Avery's head collided with the table as the boy slumped together; his voice reached them, half muffled by the hard surface pressed against his face. "I'm doomed." Tom had to admit he had not thought it through but, in the spur of the moment, had just said the first thing that came to mind; now the unfortunate wizard in front of him finally understood how much trouble he was in because of someone else. "I can't even fathom what you were thinking, Tom …"

"I am not quite sure either," he responded and rubbed the brink of his nose in distress. "But there is nothing we can do about it now other than avoid any introductions to her brother; just as what happened at Slughorn's Christmas party." They had at least managed to steer clear of the worst disaster that night with Elana's distraction, but they had not escaped completely undiscovered. "Selwyn knows though," Tom added and glanced in the witch's direction.

She nodded. "I imagine he did, yes. But, luckily, he can be trusted enough to assume he will not tell Elliot. So we are covered in that area; yet that does not mean he will not find out if you are careless in public. I strongly suggest you _both_ keep a very low profile for now. He will soon forget about the entire ordeal if no further problems arise." Tom almost snorted. Too bad they had created a problem so conspicuous it would be impossible for the older Fowl to ignore; of course unless the witch's _damage_ _control_ had taken proper effect.

A thoughtful silence befell the three Slytherins; Avery, although only half-heartedly, finished his lunch with a bleak look in his eyes, while Fowl twirled around another cup of tea around, her attention directed towards the fireplace once more. The hectic house-elves continued running back and forth, without paying much attention to the students, but Tom noticed how they slowly stopped putting new dishes onto the House tables when the platters came back empty. Their break was almost over.

"We should head back."

They quickly gathered their things and, dodging the busy creatures, headed towards the exit across the room. The portrait closed behind them with a soft click and the air, cold compared to the sweltering heat in the kitchen, felt refreshing against his cheeks and Tom perked up slightly. As they climbed the staircase once more, they ignored the quizzical glances from curious Hufflepuffs, taken aback by the rare sight of Slytherins in that area of the castle.

A few other first years were headed out into the cold and they joined them on their way towards the greenhouses for their Herbology class. "If Beery tries anything I seriously doubt I can take it," the black haired pureblood muttered in annoyance. "I mean … What is her problem really?"

Luckily for both Slytherins and Ravenclaws, they were not met by the stern looking Professor Beery as the greenhouse door was pulled to the side; they were in stead met by a young, lanky looking man, who cracked a grand smile at the sight of the small first years, several heads shorter than him, and shivering in the cold snow. "Come in, come in, little sproutlings!" He greeted them cheerfully and stepped inside for them to follow.

A great murmur of voices spread amongst the wizards and witches.

"What happened to Beery?"

"Who is he?"

"–good looking, isn't he?"

Tom eyed the young wizard sceptically, while stuffing his bag down under the small space under the table before straightening up for the Professor's introduction: "Good day to all of you, I am Professor Herbert Beery – and you may call me Professor H in order to avoid confusion. I am studying Herbology and recently employed here at Hogwarts, but as Professor Beery is on a fieldtrip with a handful other herbologists the next few months, I will be put in charge all classes." He flashed a bright smile and, from the corner of an eye, he saw a few Ravenclaw girls fawn and giggle shyly. "I hope we will all get along well."

"Professor?" A boy, fixing his blue and yellow striped tie, cleared his throat to get the wizard's attention. "Are you related to Professor Beery by any chance?"

"Indeed, I am!"

* * *

Their first class with the young Professor passed quickly and they barely did any work; Herbert Beery, Professor Beery's young nephew and assistant, had immediately charmed the witches and wizards – yet the girls were slightly more enchanted by his good looks, happy-go-lucky attitude and bright smile. While the Ravenclaws flocked around him, eager with questions, the other half of the class suspiciously kept their distance.

Elana leaned against the roughened surface of the table, her fingers trailing over the splintered wood as she, along with the rest of her House, looked in the direction of the Herbology Professor. Her eyes followed the Slytherin girls as they approached, quite wary of the other first years; but they were instantaneously absorbed into the conversation.

She clicked her tongue and turned her head away.

One of her hands unconsciously crept to her collarbone and she trailed the thin scar with her thumb.

Her gaze locked briefly with Riddle at her side, but no words were shared between them though she knew he had seen it; picking up her bag, brushing a hand over the thin layer of brown dirt that had covered it, she then proceeded past the Slytherins towards the busily chatting crowd.

"Unless you plan to teach us anything today I will take my leave, _Professor_." Elana's voice cut above the rest and the mousy brown haired wizard turned his attention to her; his eyes widened in recognition before he regained his composure with a smile.

He nodded, gaze flickering towards his watch. "Yes, of course. I guess time's running out …"

Without any intentions of listening until the end, she turned on her heel and walked off, pointedly ignoring the stares she received on her way; an old memory flashed in her mind, but she discarded it annoyed. Elana paused at her House mates. "We are allowed to leave." She informed them. Brushing past a small Devil's Snare that lazily reached out towards her, but retracted back into the shadows away from the faint sunlight, she felt a cold brush of air against her face on the other side of the greenhouse door.

The sky was clear, without a single cloud in sight and the snow below her feet was slowly turning to slush; it was still winter, but the change of seasons was fast approaching and the sun blazed high above her. Elana considered going down the slopes towards the Black Lake to spend the short break, but the wind was still sharp, cutting into the bone, and she headed towards the grand castle in the end.

As the witch strode up the hill, her feet slipping frequently in the snow, she heard the sound of voices brought by the wind and she glanced back over her shoulder. It appeared the rest of her class was filing out of the first greenhouse one by one; she paused lightly to overlook them below. Towering several heads above the others her eyes once more fell onto the Professor and, almost as if he could feel her stare, his head snapped up in her direction. Elana heaved a sigh. With everything going on she most certainly did not need yet another problem added to her list, yet there he was.

A shade passed above her and, deciding to wait for the young Professor, she watched the grey owl soar towards the skies before it vanished over the woods of the Forbidden Forest. People passed by on either side of her, keen on returning to the warm indoors of Hogwarts; on his way past her, Lestrange made sure to bump shoulders with her, his only apology in the form of a taunting sneer before the pureblood followed his friends. Elana rolled her eyes, barely put off by his attempted intimidation.

"Ah, hello." The all too familiar voice called out to her and she pried her eyes off the light blue sky. Beery had chosen to pause at her, acting exactly as expected. "Are you looking at anything in particular, Miss–?"

"–Fowl," she finished curtly, answering what he already knew. "And … No not really, Professor Beery."

"Please, Professor H. is absolutely fine." His face had lid up into another bright smile, but she could feel the underlying tension that he without a doubt felt. Six years could change a lot of things and he probably no longer knew whose side the young witch was on.

"… I think not, Professor Beery." Elana forced herself to keep up her polite smile as she carefully confirmed the other students had passed out of earshot. They had. Her face faltered and her eyes contracted into thin slits. "So you are related to Aurora Beery, I should have known." She bobbed her head in direction of the castle and once more began climbing the slope with the Professor at her side. He silently lowered his pace so she could keep up. "I must admit I am surprised to see you here at Hogwarts. It is quite … reckless."

"Yes, but I could not exactly turn down such a great job offer and I was … well, hoping that I at least still had _one _here in school I could trust. But I'm unsure whether or not that really is the case." They stepped into the Entrance Hall to find it close to abandoned, and she followed him off to the side towards the hourglasses, where they were partly hidden by the shadows. "Do I?"

She flipped the collar of her school uniform to show him the scar, and then bared her teeth in a scoff.

"I never forget, nor do I forgive."

He buried his face in his hands and heaved a sigh of relief; Elana had taken the blow for them once before and nothing she could do would change the past. The scar would be an eternal reminder as to why she lost her parents' trust: of when she helped with worst kind of blood treason.

"But I should probably warn you about Elliot, though – he might remember once he sees you and for your sake … I hope not."

"I will." A shadow of a smile crossed his lips. "Thanks. I'd better get going."

Elana ran a hand through her hair as she watched him walk away. "Say hi to Em for me."


	22. Chapter XXII

I decided to re-write the first chapter, so if you'd like you can check it out - I think I fixed it up good and made it a bit more detailed and less confusing, since I had been skipping ahead between things rather quickly and yeah. I'm also spell-checking the other chapters, but every time I do that I make new typos and that's just meh...

Now...

Enjoy chapter 22, where Tom's curiosity has been awakened, and please do review. :) **Review!**

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter XXII

* * *

"_Isn't that enough?" She felt a pair of hands gently running over her neck to inspect the bleeding wound, before she was then picked up by the woman's careful arms. "If anything, you shouldn't punish the victim but rather the ones who did it to her! Because she clearly didn't do it _herself_!"_

_Her eyes were closed shut, but her fingers tightly gripped around the older witch's robes. The fabric was drenched in a warm, sticky substance and she forced her eyes open; blood. Blood trickled down the woman's right arm, dripping down onto the floor below and slowly gathered into a pool. Her vision was blurred crimson red ..._

Elana watched the Professor disappear up the stairs. Running both hands through her long hair with a sigh, she then leaned against the cold stone wall. They had never been able to completely remove the blood stain; the now shameful reminder hidden by a thick carpet in the Family Library, but she knew it was still there and she cracked a smile - the witch had probably hexed it. Herbert Beery had played a far greater role in her life compared to her brother's, so she felt confident in her own manipulation to easily handle the situation.

All she needed was Selwyn.

The witch headed towards the Slytherin Common Room, hoping to run into the older wizard before dinner; the clammy air that greeted her face held a faint smell of decay and she cringed inwardly. Her House's location in the castle was quite depressing once she actually thought about it, tugged away deep down in the dungeons with no natural light, and she imagined the other Common Rooms. How different they might be ... "_Supreme_."

She climbed through the emerging entrance and scanned the room. A few older witches had claimed the leather couches nearest the fireplace, with books and charts spread all across the table and they were too busy working to notice the first year girl. "But if Saturn creates an angle with the Moon like this that would mean …?" One of them trailed off and a flutter of paper could be heard as Elana crossed the room and found a secluded spot near the boys' dormitories. There she had a clear view of the entrance hole.

Then she waited, bored catching small phrases from the other Slytherins.

"I guess that means you were born with … dark hair and short height."

"But …" The first girl answered, sounded awfully perplexed. "I'm blonde."

All four girls erupted into a fit of laughter. Elana sank further down into the armchair, rummaging through her bag and pulled out her Potions homework; with a foot around one of the table's legs, she dragged it close enough to put down her quills and parchment. It screeched slightly across the dark tiles and one of the witches looked in her direction.

Their eyes met briefly and Elana nodded curtly at the sixth year that in return joined her friends once more.

Flipping through the pages she quickly found the Dreamless Sleeping Potion, which, according to Riddle, had been their newest assignment. The half-blood had also informed her of her new Potions partner, and she had instantaneously spotted the gleam in his eyes at the news; Isabella Fielding. Elana felt torn. On one hand she looked forward to working with the young girl – actually regarding her as a _friend_ – but it would be a strained affair, working with a Gryffindor under several watchful eyes.

She sighed.

Then, tapping the sharp tip of the quill against the book page, she embarked on transferring Riddle's neat, flowing handwriting from his notes into her own; she had been taken slightly aback by his sudden kindness, but she could not help reading into it – he was probably up to something. Elana pulled both her legs up onto the seat of the chair and began her work.

The Common Room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only when the witches discussed their Astrology homework or playfully bantered, and Elana enjoyed the – long overdue – peace and quiet. The wood crackled and popped in the flames of the fireplace and her quill scratched across the parchment in a comfortable pace. Once in a while the entrance opened and Slytherins came and went; some settled down all around the Common Room, leisurely slung in the couches or crouched over in gossip, while others disappeared down into the dormitories.

Elana glanced up every time to thereafter return to her books.

_She climbed the staircase, image after image flashing past her in a blur of memories, and once she reached the second floor, the small witch steered directly towards the door at the end of the hall. Panicking voices reached her ears just as she closed her hand around the door knob – everything fell silent when she pushed it open. The other witch, wand drawn halfway out of her robes, gasped at the sight of the girl._

_"Elana," the witch immediately pulled her inside the room and closed the door shut. "What are you doing here? I told you to stay outside!" The little girl looked up into the familiar heart shaped face, then down onto the open trunks, half packed with the witch's belongings. "You mustn't be here."_

_"I wanted to warn you. I saw it. They are coming."_

Elana dismissed the memory.

It took longer than she had expected, and she was long done with her Potions homework and halfway through a History of Magic essay before the fifth years appeared in the room; Elana straightened up in the armchair and scanned the crowd of witches and wizards, impatiently trying to create eye contact with the older pureblood.

His dark green eyes caught hers, making him arch an eyebrow questioningly at her. Selwyn then proceeded to tapping her brother's shoulder and nodding in her direction; before she had a chance of gesturing him _no_, the two purebloods broke away from their friends and stalked towards her. Suddenly faced with her brother as well, she pulled out a clean piece of parchment and scribbled down six words, irritated underlining the last and mingled it along the other papers of her essay. Then she looked up and smiled: "Hello."

Elliot took the seat closest to her in another armchair, his deep, dark blue eyes lingered on her gravely and she felt the corners of her mouth twitch under his firm gaze. "What did you want?" Her brother asked resigned. She felt like kicking Selwyn across the shin, as the pureblood sat down _furthest _away from her: almost as if he was mockingly making it even harder for her.

"Ah– Yes, I thought you might want an update on … you know. _It_." She tamely finished, not sure how much she was allowed to mention in the presence of others – even if it was her brother's most trusted friend, she had no idea whether he had shared the secret or not. At the mentioning of the Slytherin Heir, Elliot's eyes flickered briefly towards Selwyn and she understood immediately. _Perfect._ "Oh, Selwyn, if you could possibly spell check my essay then I would be most grateful."

He raised an eyebrow once more. "What subject?"

"History of Magic," the witch responded and slid the papers across the table towards the wizard, a strained smile forcing its way over her lips.

"That is not exactly my strong point. Elliot is far bet–" Elana had done her absolute best to project her thoughts through her stare, practically screaming _take it _at him, and he apparently got the hint and took the essay from her with a puzzled expression. "Very well." Selwyn shifted in the chair and flipped to the first page, his features changing swiftly from the boredom as his eyes ran across the pages.

She suppressed a sigh of relief. Then the two siblings leaned closer so that no one could possibly eavesdrop on her report; Elana barely had any news to share, but she wrecked her brain to put something, anything, useful together. An idea struck her. Now she was at it she could just as well clear out _one _of their _many_ lies … Possibly two. "Do you remember the one I was with near the Hospital Wing just after the Quidditch match? The first year." Her voice was barely a whisper, and she continuously eyed the nearest people guardedly.

Her brother nodded thoughtfully at the memory. "The Avery kid. Is he–?"

"Well, yes. But … I am not quite sure how to explain this but he is not actually Peter Avery."

She grimaced as his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Just at that moment, from the corner of an eye, she spotted a pair of familiar faces from the entrance; Riddle looked directly back at her and it was clear he found her current company quite _disturbing_ – he spoke lowly to Avery and the two walked past them down the stairs to the dormitory, but not before he had sent a final pointed look at her.

"Due to the circumstances," she continued, lowering her tone of voice even further. "He decided it would be safer to go by another name. His name is Tom Riddle and … he is a half-blood. I have made him believe you to be the enemy to gain his trust further."

Elliot stayed quiet for a few minutes, contemplating the news, worked out the situation and would – probably – reach the same conclusion as she had. During her earlier conversation in the kitchens, she had stressed out how important it would be to keep those secrets exactly _that_. Secrets. But what neither Riddle nor Avery knew was that she was currently playing a double game, deceiving them into trusting her. Elana, though, had a completely different agenda. One that could only be fulfilled with the opening of the Chamber of Secrets.

For that she needed Tom Riddle.

"I see," her brother finally spoke again in a whisper, partly to himself. "So he has no real knowledge of his heritage?" Elana shook her head in response, awaiting further instructions in how to proceed. "Then you will continuously assist them in order to locate the entrance to the Chamber. I expect you know what to do?" As he motioned to leave, he shot her a final look. "Is there anything else?"

"No."

"Good. Mathew?"

The two pureblood siblings both turned their attention to the second wizard. Selwyn, calmly flipping through the pages of parchment, waved his hand dismissingly at his friend. "Nearly done; I will meet you and Gamp in a moment, so you can go ahead. Elana has made a few mistakes I should probably make her aware of." It appeared that the wizard had understood her small note and would stay back; because her essay was obviously _perfect_. As her brother cut his way through the Common Room, the other fifth year rose to his feet, quickly taking the now vacant seat next to her. "So, _this_."

He waved the piece of parchment in front of her:

_'I needed to talk to you'_

"Yes, I need to ask you a favour."

A corner of his mouth turned upwards, roguish, and he chuckled. "That never bodes well. What misdoings are you planning that your brother cannot know about?"

Elana fumbled with her robes, slowly starting to doubt her decision to share her new discovery; Herbert Beery had not only brought shame upon the Fowl family but the Selwyns as well, and the wizard in front of her could choose to report it to his parents. Or worse … hers. "You have to promise to keep this a secret from _everyone_."

"What is it?" He had casually leaned back in the armchair, clearly enjoying messing with her; he had known her since she was small and was basically a second brother to her, one she could share secrets with that no one else could help with – if she told anything to Elliot he was forced to report to her parents, while Selwyn did not. But this … Elana was not sure. She was not amused and almost hissed at him in response:

"_Promise._"

"You cannot possibly expect me to promise anything like this. I need to know first."

"Selwyn, this is not just some game. I am serious!"

He cocked an eyebrow at her in reply. "Fine, fine, I promise."

Elana pursed her lips, slowly losing her patience. He clearly treated her like a child. The very minute the new professor would introduce himself it would be over, unless she told him before hand. She had no other choice. Her eyes hardened. "Very well. But know this … I will _never_ forgive you if you tell anyone. The old Herbology Professor is temporarily replaced. By _Herbert Beery_."

At the mentioning of the name, the wizard's relaxed and humoured expression was completely drained from his face; his eyes were covered by bangs of dark hair when he leaned forward. The older boy placed a hand on both sides of her face, towering above, and she looked him in the eye. There was no turning back. "_The _Herbert Beery?" She swallowed hard and nodded. "And what exactly do you want me to do? An owl should already now be on its way to my parents – and yours as well – from _you_!"

"There is no need for them to know. Nothing would change–"

Elana was cut short as a thundering pain shot through her head. Her eyes blackened, a faint taste of iron spread in her mouth and she, shocked speechless, pressed her hand to her cheek. The flesh burned where he had slapped her. A surprised silence had befallen the Common Room, the unmistakable sound had drawn everyone's attention to the two purebloods but she had eyes for no one else but the wizard in front of her.

He had _slapped_ her.

He firmly grabbed around her upper arm, his fingers digging into her skin and would without a doubt leave bruises; but she was in far worse trouble than a few marks on her arm. Elana was roughly pulled to her feet and dragged out of the Common Room; several pairs of eyes followed them curiously, but they scrambled away at the wizard's words: "Mind your own business." Her arms flailed for support on her way out the entrance, hitting her knee against the stones.

The shock was slowly subsiding to in stead be replaced by fear of what would happen next.

"Selwyn, please … _Selwyn_! You promised!"

She urged him on, her voice breaking in her panic, but the fifth year did not hear her in his anger and rather rummaged through his robes; he pulled out his wand and a small, silvery-white animal sprung forward from the tip. The moment he had summoned the Patronus, the corridor and the boy in front of her was illuminated by the glowing light, the magical messenger awaiting further orders at his feet.

"You do not have to do this … It will not change what has already happened and you know it!"

"You of all people should know how shameful it was." His breathing was still uneven, but it seemed like the wizard was calming down to assess the situation with a clear mind. "I can understand why you did not report it, but you should know I cannot do the same. Nor can your brother once he gets here."

"And you know what _they_ will do." She countered.

* * *

"I have a feeling she's plotting something," Avery's voice trailed from halfway down his trunk, apparently searching for something among his belongings, to Tom. He hm'ed in return, his mind continuously replaying the scene in the Common Room, and he agreed with the pureblood. The two Fowl siblings had been huddled together and whispered lowly – what they were discussing he did not know, but he certainly hoped his name was not mentioned. "I don't trust her."

Tom was uncertain as well. "Nor do I," he responded. His eyes flickered to the door as loud voices approached from the other side, and shortly after the door burst open to reveal the other occupants of the first year dormitory; it was easy to see something had riled them up, a heated discussion in progress – they did not even pass any snide remarks between themselves and Avery, which was rare. _Very _rare. His brow furrowed.

"You missed out on quite the drama," Lestrange drawled smugly.

"Oh yeah?" Avery's head resurfaced. "Someone finally told you what an idiot you are and you broke down crying?"

"Spare us for your _witty _remarks, will you?" Mulciber impatiently shook his head before falling back into his bed; he looked towards Tom and shut out the other Pureblood. "We figured you might want to know that Fowl was dragged off by Selwyn. After he had slapped her straight across the face … At least that is what everyone is saying."

"I'll forever cherish this moment …" Lestrange dreamily muttered, still at the door.

"So?" Tom responded, forcing his voice to remain indifferent and monotone; but his heart had begun pounding furiously in his chest at the news. What was going on? "What has that got to do with us?" Had the witch said too much? And _Selwyn_? Why it was not her brother publicly punishing her was beyond him, he could not quell the feeling of curiosity in the pit of his stomach; but another, underlying, sensation surfaced. Worry …

He discarded the feeling.

"Don't deny it. You are _friends_."

His eyes narrowed. Again that word. _Friends_.

He pushed himself off the bed and motioned at Avery. "Let's leave."

They brushed past Lestrange at the door, who grinned widely at their exit, taking it as a personal victory. With a click, the door closed behind them and they quickly climbed the stairs to the Common Room; a strained mood greeted them, and most of the Slytherins were talking loudly together. Tom managed to gather fragments of conversation, all of it revolved around the previous event between the two purebloods – it was apparently a hot topic of discussion. "Do you have any idea what happened?" Avery inquired when they waited for the entrance hole to appear.

"Not other than they were talking earlier, no." Stepping through the stone wall into the darkness of the dungeons, his ears suddenly perked up and movement ahead caught his attention; Tom quickly grabbed Avery by the back of his collar, pulling him backwards, deeper into the shadows and out of sight. The pureblood opened his mouth in surprise, but he silenced the wizard by pressing a hand to the other's lips. "Be quiet," he hissed through gritted teeth.

Through the darkness he could see the outline of two people, a boy and a girl, a small, silvery fox-like creature illuminating their faces only a little. The witch was caught against the wall, the other an intimidating shadow towering above her. Their voices were hushed, but Tom could make out the discussion clearly; and he recognized the voice to be Fowl's easily. "_And you know what _they_ will do._" _They_? Avery squirmed and he withdrew his hand; the pureblood gasped for air and shot him a dirty look. But he was far too consumed in the ongoing conversation to notice.

"I know," the voice – Selwyn – responded. "His punishment will be well deserved."

"Yeah? And my punishment will be _well deserved_ as well?"

Her words rang in the silence that followed; she was well aware that she had cornered him with her words, and the wizard attempted to mount a proper comeback. _Punishment_ … The Fowl witch had clearly done something that made her fall into disfavour – quite severely. "There would be no reason to mention _you_," the older Slytherin had lost a bit of his edge and Tom was forced to fight back a snort. She was slowly pushing the older pureblood out onto unsteady ground to gain control of the situation herself. He almost commended her on how manipulatively her mind was for someone her age.

Eleven years old and still capable of playing with the older boys.

That certainly was a forte of hers.

"Tom, what's going on?" Avery clearly did not possess the ability to stay silent for longer periods of time and he was forced to shush him with a scowl, pressing himself further back into the darkness when the witch's pale face turned in their direction. Her features were contorted by the lacking light, but he could see her eyes flicker as she peered into the shadows; shrugging it off, she looked back up to the wizard.

"_Shut up …_" He mouthed at the other first year.

"Oh, _really_? If this reaches either of our parents it is guaranteed that I am going down with them. _I _will see to that." Fowl scanned the other pureblood's face, her eyes narrowed into thin slids. "We shall see if you can live with _that_ … Now, excuse me, I see no reason to be here when you do summon my brother." She sidestepped the wizard and walked towards the entrance to the Common Room, but faltered in her steps when the other spoke up once more:

"Fine," Selwyn sighed exasperated; the silvery animal disintegrated and vanished into his wand before the pureblood tucked both hands down his pockets. The darkness consumed their faces, forcing Tom to rely only on his hearing. "I cannot believe you would actually play that card," almost as if the earlier tension between the two purebloods had been completely forgotten, he chuckled heartedly.

Tom could not help but recall their conversation with Slughorn; the Professor had also had an immediate change of mood, apparently forgotten the threats he had received moments before – what was wrong with these people? One moment they could be at each others' throats, the next exchanging pleasantries with a laugh.

"You left me no other choice and you _did_ deserve it," she responded. "With that said: I assume you will not tell Elliot of _this_?"

"I will not, as promised. But will he not remember it on his own?"

"No, I doubt that he even remembers the name, actually. He was not there when it happened and it was never really discussed or mentioned once he came back home. My father worked quickly and discreetly to hush the entire affair up. This secret should be safe between just you and me," footsteps were heard in the dark, making their way down the corridor away from the entrance. It appeared the conversation had reached an end. "Right. About what happened in the Common Room ...?"

"Deny everything."

A hushed silence filled the dim corridor, only broken by Tom and Avery's slow breathing and he motioned to leave, just as a voice rang out: "_Lumos_," the warm glow from her wand lit up the area around the witch, and she raised an eyebrow at the two first years. "I did think I heard something sneaking around in the darkness. How much did you hear?"

"Depends how long you have been talking, else I would say everything." Tom responded casually, his mind spinning with the hundred of thoughts that were screaming to be put in order; he did not feel uncomfortable for being caught eavesdropping and walked towards the wand light and the girl.

"Oh?" She mused with her polite, trademark smile. Fowl tilted her head slightly, her eyes calculating as if silently discussing something with herself. "I guess it cannot be helped. Whatever," turning on her heel, the witch began walking down the dimly lit hallway while discarding her wand once she stepped into the torch lights' faint, golden glow. "I suggest you avoid me at dinner. Oh, and we have detention in Slughorn's office tonight." With her final remarks, the two first year wizards watched her retreating back before she disappeared from sight.

"What was this all about, really?" Avery complained loudly and rather exasperatedly in Tom's opinion.

Tom suppressed the urge to just roll his eyes; did the boy even pay attention to his surroundings? "It is not like I know more than you do, and I somewhat doubt it got anything to do with us or she would not have just walked off …" He dismissed the entire ordeal with a nonchalant hand gesture, even though he was bubbling with curiosity on the inside.

Whatever it was, the witch was willing to stick to her words of '_going down with them_' – whoever _they _were – so if only he could figure out the two purebloods' secret. It would make for the perfect leverage against her. Even if Fowl was currently assisting him, he knew it would always be better to have an extra card up his sleeve; because he knew what she would decide if the choice came to stand between him and her precious family name. _That_ was clear to everyone.

"True," the boy at his side shrugged. "Would've hexed us into silence if she had to …"

They thereafter decided to go for dinner in the Great Hall, and Tom shortly after took a seat at the Slytherin table with Avery at his side. The four tables had returned at the end of the Christmas holiday and they were packed with witches and wizards; a great drone of voices filled the grand chamber, which made it hard for him to pick up on any specific conversations. Well, it was rather _one_ specific conversation.

Tom had made sure to position himself on the left of Avery, so that he could pretend to listen to the pureblood – "I forgot my broom the other day somewhere." – while he rather looking just past the boy to another Slytherin group further down the table; the Fowl siblings, Avery, and Gamp. The seats around them were vacant, as if no one dared approach and the Slytherins closest to the group flickered their attention towards them ever so often, before looking away.

Two girls – he recognized them to be from his own year – greeted the younger Fowl and sat down with her; one of them, a curly blond haired witch, immediately began animatedly chatting with the brother and his fifth year friends. The girl appeared to be in high spirits, sitting with the admired elite of Slytherin and pureblood society, but Tom easily noted the disdain that flickered over the older wizards' faces.

Elana Fowl downright ignored the girl.

Avery spotted the lack of interest Tom showed him and – surprisingly clandestinely – glanced in the same direction as him, masking the quick look with a long stretch. Then, with a snort, he turned back in his seat. "Newell should be careful," the pureblood spoke, shaking his head lightly so that strands of light brown hair fell into his eyes; the wizard ran a hand through his hair and, noting Tom's raised eyebrow, explained: "She's not really _welcome _over there – they're probably only tolerating her because of the professors this close. Newell's a, well … half-blood." He cleared his throat, a hint of nervousness in his voice as the boy next to him was not exactly of _pure blood_ either.

But Tom did not mind. He was well aware that he would never be welcomed by the most noble of purebloods, due to the mixed blood that ran through his veins – even though it now appeared he descended from one of the oldest of families. Salazar Slytherin himself.

Fowl had told him not to look further into it at the moment, but an idea had struck him over the Christmas break and, if the opportunity occurred, he would siege the moment to see if his predictions were true. He had borrowed several books that mentioned anything about the Founders of Hogwarts and had stumbled over _quite_ an interesting section … a hidden chamber somewhere within the school: a chamber that could only be opened by the true heir of Slytherin.

_And _a monster within.

Tom suddenly hoped the strange, body-less, voice would return but it had not. Not since Fowl had heard him speak Parseltongue in the library over the break – he imagined the low calling was drowned out by the Hogwarts students, but it, whatever _it_ was, still tried to reach out to him. If his gut feeling was correct, the creature would lead him directly to the chamber. Next time it called …

He would respond.


	23. Chapter XXIII

I think I've become faster at updating again after I got in the mood once more. I wouldn't say it's thanks to the "many" reviews - there aren't that many, but thank you those that did review though. I love you guys! - and I really want to get to their summer holiday, since then I can finally clear out a lot of things. Like who Professor H. is to Elana and such. It's hard being so cryptic; I know what it's all about but I might not come across properly to someone who aren't really into the entire plot line as I am.

Hope it isn't too confusing.

But thanks for the reviews and hope you enjoy chapter 23! Lestrange gets a rare, solo appearance without the other two and this chapter is a bit shorter than the previous ones, but I had trouble getting it done ... Guess it's due to the summer and all, I'd rather be out and enjoying the weather - and I can't type outside, my screen is stupidly shiny in the sunlight!

Oh well. Review... Pretty please.

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter XXIII

* * *

Tom walked with Avery to the dungeons, but after that they were forced to go separate ways. The pureblood, almost preferring detention, trudged reluctantly towards the common room and a horrible evening with the other first year wizards; while Tom, on the other hand, steered towards the Potions classroom where he was to spend the next couple of hours in the company of a rather mixed bunch. He tapped the door twice with his knuckles, before – with a voice calling for him to enter – he opened it to reveal the dark and clammy room.

Slughorn was half hidden by a tall, wobbly stack of essays, as the professor was seated at his desk in the front of the classroom, while the other two Slytherins – with as much distance to each other as possible – looked up at his arrival. Lestrange, who had earned a detention earlier on due to the _ink incident_, leaned against one of the tables, his arms crossed and a fuming look across his face. He was clearly unhappy about being locked up with the witch.

A smile flickered across Fowl's face.

"Good evening. I hope I am not late, sir." Tom greeted.

The potions master waved him off dismissively and, with a faint chuckle, glanced up from his work. His gooseberry eyes twinkled in the light as he responded: "Do not worry, my boy, you are just in time." His chair squeaked in protest as he shifted. "I usually do not have much help around here, so I decided to let you sort of my storeroom … Basically re-do any old labels and note down what is soon – or already is – out of stock, as well as methodically noting down the remaining inventory. There is so much in there I'm sure you can pass a few nights with that work." Tom's brow furrowed. Was detention basically an excuse to use students to clean up what the professors were too lazy to do themselves?

It certainly appeared to be that way.

While Fowl got the new labels from Slughorn, Tom walked across the room towards the second door; during classes it was usually locked, keeping any troublemakers and curious fingers out, but when he pulled down the door knob it opened without problems. A harsh, indescribable smell pressed out against him and he coughed uncontrollably, forced to turn his face away; he pressed a hand tight against his nose and mouth, feeling his eyes water. Something had clearly leaked out of its container …

When the two purebloods finally joined him, the reeking smell had subsided enough for it to be bearable, but they both cringed their noses in disgust; the fresh air of the dungeons had helped vent out the crammed storeroom, but he could still make out the underlining rot, mixed with other potion ingredients to create a nauseating smell that made his stomach churn. Tom just hoped he would get used to it over time. It almost appeared Slughorn's detention methods were far crueller than the Herbology professor's.

They decided – or rather, _Tom _decided, seeing as the witch and wizard did not as much as utter one word to each other – to split the work. Lestrange was to do the manual labour and take down each vial, jar, potion, and plant from the shelves. He would then pass them to Tom, who would then redo the label, and, depending if he chose whether they were filled or near empty, give them to either of the purebloods. In the end, Fowl would – her handwriting the easiest to read – be in charge of the inventory list.

At least they had a plan to follow.

Now Tom just hoped the two purebloods would not be at each other's throats, the entire evening, to wreck it.

The shelves reached from floor to ceiling, so high they needed to use a wobbly looking ladder to reach the top rows; everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, and it appeared some ingredients were rarely – if ever – put to use. The witch had dragged a table over to the door already and walked off for a chair to finish her set, while the blonde boy muttered under his breath as he climbed the ladder step by step. They had decided to start from the top. Fowl returned and took a seat, clearly satisfied with her appointed post; she then rummaged through the several pieces of parchment she had received from Slughorn, dipped her quill in the ink bottle and looked up at Lestrange, a grin across her lips as she waited.

_Very_ satisfied with her post indeed.

Tom had a firm grip around the ladder, making sure it would not suddenly tip over, so that both potion ingredients and wizard would come falling down over their ears. The pureblood grabbed a glass jar furthest to the left, near the door, and climbed down once more; Tom took the _pickled slugs_ with a mixture of disgust and interest and walked to the table, while Lestrange crawled up again, complaining lowly. The contents of the jar swirled lazily around in the yellowy green liquid as he moved. The witch stared at it, eyebrow raised. "What do we have here then?"

"Pickled slugs," he ignored her sarcastic _"lovely"_, peeled off the old, faded tag and added a new, magically improved, self-sticking label. "It is full." The witch just nodded faintly and scribbled across the parchment. Then Tom swapped out the slugs with another jar, yet another pickled animal he noted, from the awaiting pureblood. This continued on for what seemed to be ages, and several hours passed. They were only interrupted twice. First, when Slughorn came to check up on them, offering some refreshments – which they gladly accepted – and second, when Lestrange complained loudly to exchange jobs.

The pureblood slumped down on the floor, rubbing his cramped up legs and ignored their looks. Tom had to admit, the other wizard probably could use a break from going up and down the ladder constantly; the witch merely took a sip from her mug and continued her work with the dried _wormwood_. "I'll do the labels for a bit," he spoke after a short break. His eyes flickered towards Fowl with a displeased look and he added: "Just for a bit until the pain's gone."

"Very well," Tom responded and took his first trip up the ladder.

What had appeared to be just _wobbly_ from the floor was completely unstable once he was up there himself; it was almost a test of courage to reach out even the slightest for an item, feeling the ladder move with him if he did. But it soon became clear that it was safe enough – perhaps it was bewitched? – and Tom then worked his way through linen bags of dried herbs; asphodel root, nettles, dittany, aconite; vials with different blood samples from all kinds of animals; more pickled and conserved creatures, both non-magical and magical; insects, whole or certain limbs only; and boxes of fine powder that, when Lestrange opened the lid of one, fluttered up into the air like silvery dust and made all three of them sneeze uncontrollably.

They had proceeded quickly and efficiently, and had cleared almost one side of the storeroom, when things went wrong. Lestrange had not been working with the labels for long, before the two purebloods once more proved that they could not be in the same room together; Tom had been fighting with the weight of a heavy clay pot with dragon dung, when the sound of something shattering echoed in the room. He pushed the pot back into its place on the shelf, grabbed a hold of the ladder and looked down.

His eyebrow flew up.

Glass shards and fairy wings littered the floor around the table as if the jar had been thrown, while Lestrange, both hands on the table as he leaned forwards against the witch, breathed hard in his anger. "I don't want to hear that from _you_!" His voice bordered on yelling and would without a doubt grab the professor's attention. Fowl had apparently provoked him.

"I guess, unlike Avery, you still believe it to be my fault." She responded, trying to keep her own tone level-headed in contrast to his flaring temperament; Fowl glanced down onto the broken jar and pulled out her wand. "Sorry to tell you this, but it is not. It is yours. _Reparo_," the small fragments twitched on the floor, before every piece, even the tiniest speck of glass dust, returned to its former, un-broken, shape. Tom had seen the spell used once before, by an older Ravenclaw student, but then the content of the bowl had been restored as well – the witch still had not perfected it.

She slid out of her chair and carefully picked up the delicate wings, dropping them one by one into the jar. When she had finished, struggling to get the last fairy wing out from under one of the shelves, she dusted off her robes and stood. "It was your own fault, for Merlin's sake! You were with the wrong people and got what you–" Fowl smashed the jar onto the table and he fell silent. Tom, silently watching from above, saw her eyes flash dangerously.

"_Enough_," her tone was icily cold. Lestrange's fury faltered at the sight, his attention flickering towards the wand still in her hand. "I would suggest you change places with Riddle, before things get ugly for you."

Tom received a poisonous glare from the other wizard, and he grabbed the pot before climbing down to change assignments – he hoped putting some distance between the two purebloods would kill the argument completely, knowing well Lestrange was willing to respond once more. He placed the dragon dung carefully on the table, his eyes locking with the witch as she looked up from her work; the quill rested with the tip on the ink bottle as she awaited his inspection of the pot. "Dragon dung, almost empty and needs to be refilled." Fowl nodded.

The witch grabbed the pot and, quickly lifting the lid to check with a wrinkled nose, placed it behind her on the classroom floor along with several other empty containers. She then picked up the quill and noted it on the list of things to be restocked. Tom was about to take another jar from Lestrange, when a voice broke the, now edgy, silence of the storeroom and the two Slytherin wizards looked back towards the potions classroom: "I think that'll be enough for tonight, it's getting rather late and you should get back before curfew." Slughorn peeked past Fowl and the table into the room, sizing up their work. "How far are you?"

"About halfway, soon, sir." The witch responded, gathering the parchments together into a neat, well-sorted, pile. "Do you want us to put things back into place before we leave?" Tom had a feeling the '_we'_ most likely meant him and Lestrange if it came down to it, but the professor waved off her question.

"I think you have all worked enough for one night. The first class tomorrow can move the table if they need to," they were ushered out of the storeroom, scrambling past the blocking table while Slughorn locked the door behind them with a soft click. "Off to bed with all of you!"

"Good night, professor."

* * *

Avery stifled a yawn with his hand, before the pureblood began piling food onto his plate hungrily. "I almost forgot Lestrange got a detention as well," he spoke while he, eyeing a stash of pumpkin pancakes – he ended up just grabbing the entire platter and ignored several stares – attempted to smoothen his unruly hair. "It was almost bearable to be in the dormitory with only Mulciber and Nott. Though … I can imagine it wasn't all that comfortable with him _and_ Fowl in the same room? They must've tried to kill each other."

"They had a small disagreement, but other than that … No, not really." After Slughorn had dismissed them, Lestrange had stomped out and vanished in the hallway before they had as much as left the classroom. Tom was grateful the two purebloods had no plans to continue their argument, and he had shortly after crept down under the covers of his bed in the dormitory, careful not to wake the others. He had been unable to sleep for a while, his mind consumed by thought but his eyes had fluttered shut in the end, lulled to sleep while listening to the crackling flames and the slow, rhythmic breathing of the purebloods.

There were barely any students up yet that morning, when Tom and Avery had taken a seat at the Slytherin table; his eyes briefly flickered over the familiar faces, and he noticed most were witches and wizards from his own year. Avery, losing interest in the topic of conversation, turned his attention to the broom at his side and, apparently insulted by a small grease stain at the handle, started to scrub it clean with his sleeve. Tom decided to salvage a few pumpkin pancakes, while the pureblood was not looking, and a pair of dark blue eyes caught his; Fowl nodded slowly in his direction from down the table.

He was about to return the greeting when she looked away once more. Her lips were pulled into a thin line, brow slightly furrowed as she looked upwards to the enchanted ceiling. Wings flapped loudly and two big, tawny owls soared down towards the Slytherin table; they carried a large, wrapped up package between their claws and, with a screech from one, they dropped the weight in front of the witch. Fowl ignored the few, curious glances she got and reached out towards a green envelope, fastened to the brown package – the two owls, taking advantage of the situation, started to quickly peck away at the contents of a nearby bread basket.

The witch wafted at them annoyed when they started fighting over a bun, but her eyes were busy scanning over the letter. Tom pressed a hand to his mouth, attempting to suppress a laugh; the bigger owl had snapped out at the _attack_ and managed to get a good hold of her finger. She withdrew her hand and shot a dirty look at the bird. She then proceeded to tear off the paper wrappings, and he straightened up in curiosity to see what it might contain.

Shortly after she had piled a nice stack of books onto the table and flipped through one.

Tom attempted to get a proper look at one of the titles, but the only visible book – held in one of the witch's hands, while she thoughtfully used the other to stab her breakfast with a fork – was so smeared over time that the cover was completely unreadable. Suppressing a sigh, he turned his attention to the enchanted ceiling above.

The sky was a mesh of white and grey, heavy clouds creating a thick blanket to lock out the sun, and it appeared today would be yet another chilly winter morning. "Think I should get going," Avery spoke, his mouth stuffed with pancakes, as the pureblood hurriedly tried to down his breakfast before his first class; gulping down the content of his goblet in one go, the wizard grabbed the broom and stood. But rather than heading out the great doors he paused briefly, looking down at Tom. "What'll you do?"

"Actually," he slowly rose to his feet, discarding whatever remains that were left on his plate. "I think I will go have a look today."

They passed down the aisle between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables when he once more caught her eye. Fowl quickly clasped the book shut with a faint _thud_ and urged Tom to pause at her seat. "Good morning," she greeted. Then she divided the stash into two piles and handed one over to him; he staggered shortly, surprised by the weight and he saw the first title. _Names of the Twentieth Century_. "Going for flying lessons?" The witch nodded her head in the direction of Avery's broom.

"Yes. Well, Avery is."

"Mind if I keep you company?" Fowl clearly planned to join him even if he declined, but, his eyes still on the book's title he had quite the idea what she planned to talk about. And Tom would not pass out on that. As they walked down the muddy slopes towards the Quidditch pitch, he contemplated whether or not to tell her about the mysterious, bodiless voice that only he could hear. Would she think him insane? The wind howled piercingly in his ears and he shivered from the cold, his fingers freezing around the books.

They parted from the pureblood wizard and climbed the narrow, wooden steps to one of the raised stands; from there they would have a perfect view of the pitch, while they would also be left alone from other possible spectators. Tom preferred privacy when they discussed his special _abilities_.

Loud voices swept across the grounds, whipped up by the harsh winds that blew in from across the Black Lake, carrying with it a faint smell of pine trees and morning dew. Tom glanced down towards the ground from his seat, his eyes trailing over the gathered first years. They were huddled together from the cold and each holding onto a broom; three boys zoomed in and out around the golden rings in one end, showing off their skills in front of the rest. The instructor had yet to show.

Tugging his robes closer around his neck, shielding the bare skin from the numbing cold air, he glanced towards the witch at his side. Neither of them had signed up for extra Flying Lessons after the mandatory two months had passed. Fowl had – her nose cringed at the very thought – explained that she found flying rather _dull_, but had tagged along with him nonetheless, in order for them to talk. Tom did not exactly find flying around on some unsteady _stick_ to be all that amazing, and he honestly saw no point in learning the skill more than what he already had.

He had no use for it either. Tom could not afford a broomstick and, even if he could, it would look _very odd_ if he flew through the streets of London on one. Not that he had anywhere to go outside of Hogwarts anyways; there was no one to visit. No, he was far more interested in another way of transportation … _Apparition_. It suited him much better than having to rely on anything but himself. Of course there were still quite a few years until his seventeenths birthday, but until then he did not exactly need the transportation methods much before that.

A rustle of papers reached his ears and he glanced towards the witch; she was once more reading through the smudged, leather bound book from earlier, tugging a strand of black hair from her face in the process. Fowl turned another page. "Where did you get all these from?" He ran a finger down over the collection, creating a thin layer of dust in his wake that was instantly swept away by the wind, out of sight.

"Family library," she responded. The wind blew up her long hair and she brushed it back once more, annoyed, before she finally gathered it into a bun behind her head, and secured by sticking her wand through it.

"And they did not inquire what reasons you needed them for?"

Their eyes locked and she chuckled lightly. "Of course not. I had a house-elf do it before I left." The witch looked back into the book and carefully turned the fragile, yellowing paper with two fingers, supporting her head in a hand and bit her lower lip thoughtfully. The instructor had arrived and dozens of first years weaved in and out between each other in the air, attempting to perform difficult manoeuvres and tricks; Tom watched them for a while, pondering the witch's tone of voice as he felt the cold, but refreshing wind against his face. Faint rays of light peaked through the cover of clouds and as the minutes passed the temperature slowly grew warmer.

He stretched his legs out in front of him.

It actually was rather comfortable.

"There is a voice that only I can hear," he watched her from the corner of an eye, attempting to read her facial expression for any reaction; but as usual her eyebrow merely scooted up and she tilted her head towards him, a smile in place. Tom mentally yelled at himself for even saying it, knowing what a complete fool he would sound like just then. He wished he could erase those few words, pretend it had never happened.

Her eyes lingered on him. "I see."

Then she turned her attention towards the book once more. "What? That is all?" Tom felt flapper gasped, half predicting something more to happen. Anything, really. For the witch to burst out laughing, or send him a wary, sceptical look as if he was crazy; but he had not anticipated complete indifference. "You do not find it weird to hear _voices_?" Anger rushed to his face and he felt his cheeks burn, both from the annoyance but also the cold; why could she not just react how he expected her to?

Fowl pressed a finger onto the paragraph she was currently reading and looked up. Then, her dark blue eyes hard, she snapped: "Legend has it that Salazar Slytherin built a hidden, secret chamber somewhere within this school. In that chamber he placed a terrifying monster, a monster the _true_ heir would be able to control and use to purge the Hogwarts of Muggle-born students. I see no reason to be surprised if you – the supposed heir – heard a voice like that, seeing as you are indeed a Parselmouth. Now, rather than lingering on to the doubt of whether you are related to Slytherin or not, I suggest we move along and believe you _are_. Agreed?"


	24. Chapter XXIV

Another not so long chapter, but I've discovered I quite like writing my SiriusxOC story ... which has received a noticable amount of reviews - compared to this at least :( - so I'm attempting to write chapters for both as fast as possible; but that means the chapters won't always be as long. I also decided to skip a few, minor parts to rather use in later years and go straight for their summer holiday now.

Elana might be a bit OCC compared to earlier but I promise she isn't; I just believe she's going through a change after she has gained "friends" and become aware of others than herself - and she's not completely aware of how to interact with them.

But I hope you all enjoy this chapter! And, as always, I hope you review.

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter XXIV

* * *

While the first years gathered their belongings on the Quidditch pitch below, laughing and talking loudly over the howling wind, Tom glanced sideways onto the witch before he, closing the old book in the process, stood up. Tom slung his bag over his shoulder, feeling the weight of his own books. "We should get going as well," the pureblood responded with a soft hum and a nod. Fowl got up on her feet and looked him straight in the eye. "At least if we want to make it for class." They had to put the books away quickly, or they would be forced to bring them along to their next class.

They had read though several books; old tomes and parchment, so dusty and wrinkled over time Tom could barely make out the letters, but they had come across nothing helpful at all. He felt quite discouraged by their lack of _useful_ information, as if they were on some wild goose chase. Perhaps he was not meant to learn anything about his heritage; he was to forever stay an orphan, an insignificant half-blood, an outcast. "Your mother …?" Fowl spoke slowly but, as if she regretted her words, trailed off; she in stead picked up a stack of books and headed towards the stairs.

"What?" He called after her, but she hurriedly disappeared in the shadows down the steps. Tom picked up the remaining stack and pursued her; her footsteps echoed further down, though he managed to catch up with her. "What about her?" The girl came to a halt, inches from the entrance and the sunlight, and she turned her face towards him. Her brow was furrowed in thought. "What about my _mother_?"

She shook her head and, with a faint smile, spoke: "It was nothing. I was merely thinking something …" Then the witch stepped out into the open; shielding her eyes from the bright light of the morning sun, Fowl looked towards the first years. Tom paused at her side, eyes, narrowed in suspicion, still lingering on her shorter frame and he carefully considered her words.

Why would she even _consider _his mother?

His weak, pathetic mother, who had abandoned him after birth in that awful place …

An idea struck him. Was there a reason he could not find his father's name in any wizarding texts? A reason why the name of Riddle had left no traces in history? Perhaps _he_ was not the one who had passed on the blood of Salazar Slytherin to Tom. Perhaps … It was his mother? His hands balled into fists and he, angered by the very thought, bit the inside of his cheek so hard he drew blood; the iron taste filled his mouth as he discarded that _ridiculous_ thought. If his mother really had been a witch, why had she not saved herself?

No, his mother had been a weak Muggle woman with no real power to get through life; so weak she had thrown away her newborn child to an unknown fate, so weak she did not care for her very own son enough to stay in this world. So _pathetic_. Tom was not sure which of them he hated most, his mother or his father, but he knew both of them had to be pitiable creatures to abandon him like that. And if he ever saw his father ... "I advice you to never bring up the subject of my mother," he spoke, his voice so low it barely escaped his lips. The witch turned to him. "Never again."

Fowl silently watched him, their eyes locked, but then she gave a shrug. "Very well," it was clear she was dissatisfied with his harsh words, but appeared to accept his command and the witch took a step closer. "Give me your books. You can wait for Avery if you like, then I shall take them to my dorm." Her tone of voice was cold compared to earlier; Tom quickly added his books to the pile and watched the witch's retreating back. Another gust of wind blew over the Quidditch pitch.

He heaved a sigh.

It had turned darker.

Heavy, greying clouds drifted in over the Black Lake towards them, blocking out the winter sun.

The Slytherin girl disappeared into the castle just as another familiar voice called out to him: "There you are, Tom!" Avery came strolling towards him, broom slung over his shoulder and cheeks aflame from the exercise but also from the cold, and he appeared to be in a good mood. The pureblood's head craned slightly to the side as he looked around, then he blinked. "Where's Fowl?"

"She left," he responded. The two then made their way up the slopes, faint patches of green grass peeked up through the thin layer of snow, and they headed towards Hogwarts and the day's first lesson; Tom listened, mind deep in thought, to Avery's stories from practice, when the first drop hit them. In the blink of an eye heavy raindrops cascaded from the skies and they were forced to, along with the other first years, make a run for the castle's great doors; breathing heavily, Tom stopped inside the entrance hall, safely away from the sudden downpour, and felt his soaked school uniform cling to his arms and legs.

They had no time to get changed and his face fell at the thought of spending History of Magic, drenched to the bone. His shoes sloshed against the stone steps, and he expected the Caretaker to flip at the mud the two boys had dragged in with them. "We should ask her for that hot-air charm she used before …" Avery mumbled, wringing his sleeve so hard that water dripped onto the marble floor. "But at least Binns won't notice us _flooding_ his classroom."

It was only a short walk for the classroom, located on the first floor, and the two boys stepped inside before the professor's arrival. Almost as if Avery had gotten used to – and accepted – the witch's presence, he immediately walked to where she was seated, pulled out a chair and slumped down. Her attention lingered briefly op him, eyeing the dripping wet robes and his damp hair, clinging to his cheeks and forehead, then she looked out the window; Tom watched how her mouth formed a slight _O _as if it was first then the witch noticed the weather. "Good I left early," she mused.

This, of course, earned her a dirty look from Avery.

Tom took a seat.

History of Magic was probably regarded as _the_ most boring and tedious class by every student at Hogwarts, and it was no different for Tom. Shimmering back and forth across the floor in front of the class, the old ghost, professor Binns, droned on endlessly in a monotone voice about _Emeric the Evil_, and with that lulled practically all – even the most studious of Ravenclaws – into sleep. Avery did not even bother disguising his boredom, nodding off ever so often with his face rested against his book and eyelids fluttering shut.

His pheasant-feathered quill wavered back and forth as Tom scribbled across the rough, yellowy parchment; he barely paid attention and would at times find himself stalled halfway through a letter. _Slaughtered in a fero_– He had done it again; Tom wiped his eyes with the end of his sleeve and stifled a yawn.

A faint snore could be heard a few tables away.

Two Ravenclaw girls had huddled together, giggling and whispering, over a piece of parchment and was completely ignorant of the lecture; the boy next to them was, broadly grinning, drawing an ink face on his sleeping friend; and the pureblood witch on his left was, rather intrigued, observing her own nails. The rain pounded heavily against the windows to the classroom, Tom's clothes felt clammy against his skin and he shifted in his seat, uncomfortable.

Light flashed over the dark grey skies and a faint rumble could be hear somewhere in the distance; the forbidden forest, tall shadows weaving in the wind, covered most of the visible grounds and he spotted a large bird taking cover in between the branches of the trees. A small note landed on his desk. Tom's attention flickered to the black haired witch, who returned his gaze with a raised eyebrow and a nod towards the small, crumbled piece of paper; he picked it up and unfolded the message.

_Your full name?_

His brow furrowed.

Flipping over the parchment, he scribbled down a response.

_Tom M. Riddle. Why?_

He lobbed it back at the witch. Her eyes scanned it quickly and ripped off a new shred, which she immediately wrote something on; Fowl then tossed it over Avery to Tom, fixing her hair in the process with a shake of the head.

_Your _full _name, I asked._

Tom sighed.

_Tom Marvolo Riddle. _Why, _I asked._

The witch's mouth turned into a thin, white line and she, glancing sideways up at him, waved off the last part of his message. He never received an answer. So Tom spent the remainder of the class staring her down, consumed by thought; asking about his mother, now his full name … Fowl, without a doubt, was on to something – something she was not prepared to share with him, if she planned to share it with him at all. Rather typical of her.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance.

Avery's stomach growled loudly.

* * *

Elana folded the white shirt together neatly, before she placed it in her trunk with the rest of her belongings. The dormitory was abandoned except from her, the other girls had already packed and were down at dinner; she would join them shortly, but had, too caught up with other things, forgotten to pack her things in time. The beady eyes of the teddy bear stared hollow back at her as she held it up.

Then, with a sigh, she put it down and closed the trunk with a _thud_.

The witch exited the room, passed through the dark Common Room – eyes flickering towards the few Slytherins still there – and climbed the stairs; chirping bird calls reached her through the open doors, as well as the warm night air and the smell of summer. The Great Hall buzzed with excitement, but Elana felt her stomach churn with the shimmers of the hourglasses catching her attention.

She swallowed hard.

Her mind froze, when, all of a sudden, a pair of hands latched onto her upper arm. "Can I barrow you for a minute, Elana?" The all too familiar voice made the pureblood instantly steer away from the crowd; she came face to face with Isabella in the same hidden niche that she had used months before in her chat with the Herbology professor. The young, brown haired witch gave a small, nervous smile as she spoke: "To think our first year has gone so fast …"

"I told you it would be best to ignore me," she responded, the edge of her voice harder than she had wanted it to be. "If someone saw us, if my _brother _saw us …" Panic began to surface and her eyes attentively flickered towards the stream of people; Elana had done her best to avoid the Gryffindor and she had expected the girl to follow suit, but clearly not. "Please, Isabella, go back."

She shook her head meekly, still smiling. "I just want to ask a question first."

"All right, but fast."

"Can I mail you over the summer? My mum promised she'd buy me an owl, so I thought we could possibly talk that way … no one would see us together and you're my friend, right?" Elana considered it; biting her lip hard she finally lowered her head in defeat. Even though she was not for admitting it, she wanted a friend like that. Someone you could tell anything, no secrets, no deceit. Someone you did not keep close just to use them for her own gain. Isabella was that girl – she did not care for her status as a pureblood witch and never would.

"Very well. Do you have any paper so I can get your–"

A voice cut her short and both girls turned to look at the boy. "Is she bothering you again?" The younger Potter brother stood, arms crossed and a with grim, angered expression, and watched the unlikely pair. "If she is I'll hex her into next month, I swear …"

"No! Tyler, we're just talking." Isabella waved her hands dismissively, but the wizard's eyes narrowed sceptically, glaring hard at Elana. "Just go inside, I'll be there shortly. Really! I was the one who wanted to talk. Go." He huffed, but – with a final _"Get me if she does anything, all right?"_ – he stomped off towards the Great Hall. "I'm sorry … He still believes you're … Well– Right, address?" She rustled through her pockets and shortly after pulled a small scrap of parchment and a pencil up from the folders.

Elana wrote her family's home on the small piece and handed it back. "Make sure you address the letter to _me_, and then our housekeeper will probably leave it unopened. Hopefully. But please do avoid any suspicious subjects that might give you away – and _never_ put your own name." The girl nodded at every word.

Isabella leaned forward and embraced her; the witch's thin arms were trembling slightly and Elana carefully returned the hug. Then the witch let go and beamed, clutching the small scrap of paper closely. "Thank you!" Then she turned and walked away without a single glance back; Elana could not help but smile faintly, a bubbly feeling in the pit of her stomach. Even after all she had done, the Gryffindor still cared for her like that.

Like a friend.

Following a pair of Ravenclaw girls she entered the hall, where most of the students of Hogwarts had already gathered. Great emerald green banners hung from the ceiling. Her brother motioned her over. Slipping down in a seat at the Slytherin table next to Gamp, she nodded curtly to greet the fifth year boys; the End-of-Term feast was about to begin. Everyone appeared in great spirits; exams were over and most looked forward to the summer holiday where they could once more meet with their families at home. Elana, on the other hand, dreaded that.

Tom looked briefly towards her.

The months had passed in the blink of an eye and, unfortunately, had been absolutely fruitless for the two first years. Book after book, day after day had they searched but in vain; Elana had had a slight hunch, but she was uncertain if she should follow up on it or not and had decided to keep quiet for now – once she returned home, she would check the library for anything useful. Brushing a strand of hair from her face, she suppressed a sigh.

"Any plans for the holiday?" Gamp asked, with both his elbows on the table as he looked from Elliot to Selwyn. Her eyes moved away from the first year to the teachers' table; Slughorn looked to have downed one or two drinks already, the Potions Master, face flushed, rambled on to those nearest him. Their detentions, several days every week, had at least created a great opportunity to ingratiate themselves with the professor, which had made the elderly man become rather fond with both her and Riddle.

Far to the right at the table sat both the Beery members; the witch had returned less than a month earlier, strict as always, and had taken over the first year classes once more. Elana could not be too sure, but it appeared the professor no longer disliked her as much as before – and she suspected the young nephew to be the reason why. Her eyes flickered to Selwyn. The wizard had kept his part of the deal and had said nothing.

The great doors closed, indicating the feast was about to commence. All eyes turned to the Headmaster, who had stood from the golden chair in the middle, and a hushed silence fell over the room. Dippet overlooked the faces of his students, stroking his long, white beard before his voice echoed throughout the room: "Another year has come to an end! I hope you have all learned many a great things and I wish the seventh years a wonderful future outside the school, use the wisdom you have gained well. Now, before the banquet shall begin, the house cup needs awarding."

Elana's paling reflection stared directly back at her, as she kept her face low and her attention on the golden plate in front of her; she had no wish to see the disheartened or livid faces of her housemates at what was about to happen; the other tables murmured in excitement and she sank further down in her seat. No one really knew what had caused the Slytherins to lose two hundred points over the Christmas break, but hushed rumours had circulated amongst the witches and wizards.

All mentioned the same person.

Elana Fowl.

_Her_.

"The points are as thus: In fourth place, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Ravenclaw, with three hundred and fifty-two; Slytherin has four hundred and twenty-six and Gryffindor, four hundred and seventy-two. Which means–" The Headmaster's voice barely reached out as a storm of cheering and clapping erupted from three of the four tables, as most of the school celebrated the dethronement of Slytherin for the first time in over ten years. "–it is time to change the decorations! Well done, Gryffindor."

Elana could almost touch frustration that hung in the air, while her ears rang from the deafening applause from the rest; she looked up in time to see the emerald green banners become scarlet red, the silver turned gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering lion took its place. She could feel her brother's disappointed gaze and she felt downright sick. The feast appeared on the table in front of them, but, while the rest of the school celebrated, none of them felt like touching anything. Their defeat had smothered any excitement.

"Watch your disgrace of a sister next time, Fowl!" Someone spat. "Or better, keep her at home after the summer!"

Her fingers curled tightly around the fabric of her skirt. Tears pressed on at the corner of her eyes. Elana knew the blame would fall on her and rightfully so, but the embarrassment felt almost unbearable. Her ears burned and she could feel all eyes on her, but not even once did she look up at the person speaking – or rather, yelling. "Do you mind repeating that, Blishwick? Because I am sure I did not hear you correctly just now." Selwyn's tone was icily cold and Elana glanced through her bangs up at the wizard; his eyes were narrowed into thin slits, glaring towards the other boy, appearing unusually intimidating.

"Oh, I think I heard him quite clearly, Mathew." Elliot's smile was in place as usual as he rested an elbow on the table, casually responding. But those that knew him well ... "He apparently thinks of my sister as a _disgrace_. Am I right, Blishwick?" The table had turned completely silent, everyone else had frozen on the spot and, terrified, looked from the fifth year group and back at the Slytherin goal keeper. They all knew the wizard had said too much. "That certainly is a _pity_ …"

"Ah, n–no! I didn't mean it like that … I just … Nothing."

"Of course not." Even though her brother probably was not finished with the unfortunate wizard, he was unable to act further with the professors present. But Blishwick was far from punished enough to satisfy the Fowl. She felt his gaze linger on her again. "Remember to be more careful in the future." The corner of her mouth tugged up slightly and a small smile crept over her lips. They had protected her.

She nodded in reply.

* * *

A shrill whistle blew. Elana leaned her forehead against the cold glass of the compartment window, out onto the Hogsmeade station, bathed in the warm, blazing sunlight, and the small group of red buildings that lined the platform. Through the reflection she could see the two wizards clearly and she forced back a sigh. After what had happened at the feast the night before, Elliot had taken all precautions and ordered her to spend the train ride with his friends. Her brother was at the Prefects' meeting and had left her in Selwyn's and Gamp's care.

She glanced up on her trunk, stuffed away above her and she regretted packing away all of her books. Without really wanting to, Elana suddenly remembered the last time she had been onboard the Hogwarts Express. Back then there had been another way to kill time, but there was no way she could go meet with the witch now; she looked forward to exchanging mail though. Elana had never done that before with anyone …

With a final call from the conductor, the train began to move, first slow but then it picked up speed, and soon after Elana watched the familiar landscape; the tall, green trees of the forest; the sloped hills; and the light blue sky vanish in the horizon. In some way she missed Hogwarts already. Even if she always had to keep up appearances, to always show respect and be polite towards the professors, there were still times she had felt happier than she had ever been at home.

Elana almost snorted at her own sentimentality. _Happiness_.

In a few months she would be back; probably meeting up with Riddle to exchange any progress with their search. She had been unable to talk to the wizard ever since the banquet … Elana felt confident in her belief that he was, indeed, the heir of Salazar Slytherin, even though they could not find any records of his family; he had insisted that it was his father, from whom he had inherited his magical genes but she became increasingly unsure about it. Her brow furrowed in thought. She had never given any thought as to why he knew nothing of his parents, but then it dawned on her.

Riddle was an orphan.

The used books and robes, him staying over the Christmas holiday … Everything.

Elana felt unbelievably stupid to not have noticed earlier.

With a rattle, an elderly witch stuck her head into the compartment with a bright smile, pushing a trolley in front of her. "Can I get you sweeties anything?" Never being one for sweets, she wrinkled her nose and was about to decline when a memory suddenly surfaced in her mind. The day they had snuck out of Hogwarts through the secret passage to the Honeydukes, Elana had seen Riddle inspect some box and denied, after she asked if he was interested in buying it.

Could he even afford it if he wanted to?

"Actually, I would like package of Bertie Bott's, please." Elana said, surprising even herself in the process.

The plump woman gave a bright smile and rustled through the insides of the trolley. "Right, dear, anything else?"

"No, thank you." Elana half-stood from her seat as she tried to fish some money out of her pockets, while, with her free hand, accepted the box of beans. "One moment–"

"Let me," astonished, she watched Selwyn pay and, the trolley rattling further down the train, she slumped back into her seat. "I never knew you liked sweets." He spoke with a smile. The pureblood nodded towards the brightly coloured box in her lap and raised an eyebrow in question; Elana fumbled embarrassed with the small ribbon.

"Not really, I just … felt like buying it. Thank you, I will pay you once Elliot gets back."

He waved her off. "Don't worry about it."

The compartment fell silent again and Elana absentmindedly turned the box in her hands, a small smile at her lips; there was probably no chance for her to give the beans to Riddle over the holiday, so it would have to wait until they met again– she froze. What was she doing? She had just bought sweets for someone else? The smile was wiped off her face and she shook her head in disbelief. Something was definitely wrong with her.

Buying sweets for Riddle …

_Really_?


	25. Chapter XXV

Thanks for a brilliant amount of reviews! Really, keep it up :)

And a fun little story which, frankly, wasn't all that fun ... I was straightening my hair and accidently got a hold of my earlobe with the straigthener. So yeah...fun! So much pain... But anywho, enjoy the partly short and idyllic chapter 25! (as I wrote this I've discovered I really am a sucker for marble ... Any guy who wants to win my heart: I do not need diamonds, give me marble and I'm game!)

Oh, and something to think about! In the movie, where you see Snape's final memories: Lily gets sorted into Gryffindor and, while Snape watches her walk down to the Gryffindor table she introduces herself to James ... But how on earth did James get sorted before her. Lily Evans. James Potter ... I always thought E came before P in the alphabet ... though that may just be me.

And yes, I think about stuff like this!

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter XXV

* * *

Dragging his heavy, rugged and tattered trunk out after him as he stepped off the train, Tom found himself pushed back and forth in a sudden wave of Hogwarts students; the platform was one big chaos of noise and cramped spaces, parents and family members were eagerly pressing past others to greet their children. A tall witch swept her two daughters into a hug, a smaller girl squealing happily at the sight of her sisters, and he watched them with a frown. "How will you get home?" Avery, breathing heavily as the pureblood was juggling with both his trunk and a cage, spoke up and wiped his brow with a sleeve.

Tom shrugged lightly. "Walk, probably."

The greyish-brown barn owl hooted lowly before it began pecking at its wings; the two first year Slytherins weaved in and out of the crowd, towards the exit out to the rest of King's Cross Station where Avery had arranged to meet with his family. For Tom, on the other hand, he had a rather long, tedious stroll through the streets of London to the orphanage to look forward to; he was in no hurry to come back to his childhood nightmare, and it was quite irksome that he was not allowed to perform any magic outside of school …

At least he was hated so much by the other orphans that he would probably be left alone over the next couple of months; and, if he could get away with it – which he most likely could, with how the matron was practically terrified of him by then – Tom would lock himself away in his room, with only his books as company the entire holiday. He would have plenty of time so that he was more than prepared for his second year at Hogwarts. "This is my cousin, Michael Avery … Michael, this is Tom." The wizard was a tall, muscular man that towered several heads above the two boys; he grunted something – possibly a greeting – and his small, bead like, dark eyes lingered on Tom with barely hidden distaste.

Tom nodded, feeling incredibly scrutinized, and responded: "Hello." A rather uncomfortable silence fell over the three wizards; Avery shifted on his feet and cleared his throat, but before the pureblood was able to speak, Tom pulled the handle of his trunk up close and, with a polite smile, prepared his departure: "I should be going. Have a nice holiday, Peter–" he nodded at the man. "–Mr. Avery."

"Right … Bye, Tom."

Waiting in line with all the others that were leaving Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, he heaved a great, exasperated sigh; a small boy, perched on top of his father's shoulders, beamed brightly down at Tom and chattered incoherent words to catch his attention. The air was heavy from smoke and steam, voices loudly boomed in his ears and he was eager to get out into the open, away from the crowd. All around him people hugged in joy and his frown deepened.

The guard, stationed at the exit, watched as people vanished through the brick wall and out into the Muggle world without causing trouble and the old wizard quickly ushered Tom forward. Tom slipped through the magical barrier and, with the weird sensation of passing through solid stone, stumbled out onto the other side; he straightened up, eyes shifting over the travellers around him, and dragged the trunk out of the station.

The evening air was warm and the darkening skies were streaked red, orange and yellow as the sun set in the distance; birds chirped from their hidden nests in the shadows of the tall buildings and the cries of a newspaper boy, eager to sell his last share for the day, rang loudly over the noise of the crowd. No one paid any attention to the twelve year old wizard or his tattered trunk, filled with robes, books about magic and strange ingredients for potions. Tom quickly made his way down the busy street, adults passing by in their own world on their way home from work.

He had often run errands for the matron of the orphanage and was used to the intricate network of crowded roads and dark, smelly alleys, and he had soon after gotten off the hectic main streets and, the heavy trunk bumping against the cobbled stones, he walked down the silent road towards an old, gloomy grey building at the square at the end of the road.

With fronts grimy and unwelcoming, the houses lining the left side of the road loomed up like watchful stone faces in the dark, the gardens overgrown with weed and windows broken; one of the streetlamps sputtered before, just as Tom passed under the lamp, it flickered one final time and blacked out. A dog barked loudly a few blocks away. The large, neglected park was as creepy as he remembered it to be; the plants had been left alone and had overtaken the small pebble paths, creating an impenetrable wilderness of vines and nettles.

The iron wrought fence had rusted away, brownish-red dust covered the intricate patterns of the arched entrance; what had once been a beautiful face was now a wretched, stain-covered grimace as the marble angel gazed towards the starry night above, cursing her own reality. A laurel tree had wrapped its vines around the woman's body, nearly covered the entire statue in a cocoon of leaves and Tom, who had paused in his steps, almost pitied it.

He sighed and pried his eyes off the chained angel; as Tom stared up at Wool's Orphanage he almost turned on his heel and walked away again, but he forced himself to open the iron gates and step inside the small yard. The grass was yellowing and dry from the heat. With hinges creaking he locked the gate after him. The square building was surrounded by high railings which, more than anything, felt like a prison to Tom, a prison to trap himself and the other orphans in this dreadful place; he swallowed hard and knocked at the door. _Two months_, he reassured himself as he waited for someone to open; he would soon be back at Hogwarts and away from this horrible place that he had, not long ago, been forced to call home.

But no more. In less than a year, Hogwarts had become much more like a home than the orphanage had ever been to him. Through the door he heard a voice and, with footsteps approaching, a woman's face appeared shortly after; Mrs. Cole's face paled immediately as her eyes fell on him. She almost seemed to consider shutting the door again – Tom silently, truthfully, hoped she would – but then the matron stepped aside. "So you're back, I see. Come in then," he dragged the trunk in quickly and, waiting for the elderly woman to shut the door, he watched her indifferently. "You are too late for supper, but I'll ask Martha to prepare something. Your room is the same as last time."

As it appeared neither had anything more to say to the other, Tom climbed the narrow stairs towards his usual room on the second floor; placing the trunk against one of the dull walls, caked with grey paint, he closed the door and, in the process, ignored a few curious heads, poking out from another nearby room – they vanished, terrified, as he made eye contact with them. Tom ran a hand through his hair. His eyes scanned over the dark walls, the old, wooden desk and the small bed, as well as the cupboard, which were the only things in the cramped room.

At first Tom only stood there, resigned and with shoulders slumped, in the middle of the room.

_Two months_ …

* * *

The first morning Elana woke up after having come back home, she just lay in her bed and wondered why the dormitory was so _bright_. She had left the window open during the night, as she was not used to the heat of the room; shifting uncomfortably in what used to be _her_ bed – but was now rather that of a stranger's – Elana, rubbing her eyes from sleep, sat up and stretched. The first rays of sun illuminated the bedroom in a golden glow and the young witch merely sat there, staring thoughtfully ahead of herself.

Her trunk stood in the middle of the room, opened and with several items scattered over the floor and the end of her bed; she had yet to properly unpack her belongings, but had, after she had returned home and was left to herself, merely dug through the top layer of clothes to her books; the big stack of history books on her nightstand had been placed within reach and she had, unable to really fall asleep, read through several – interesting, but useless – chapters on pureblood nobility. On top of the pile was the brown teddy bear, watching over her, the pink ribbon slightly askew.

She stared back into its beady eyes and stifled a yawn. Elana still had no clue who would have sent it as a Christmas present. A blackbird chirped cheerily outside and she, rather reluctantly, got out of bed. Her toes curled in preparation to face the cold stone floor, but once more she had to remember that she was no longer at Hogwarts and she peered down; chuckling and feeling the soft wool carpet under her feet, Elana shuffled across the room towards the grand windows.

The curtains were pulled aside to properly allow the morning sun to fill the room; a fresh gust of wind brushed against her face as Elana pulled the window inwards, allowing only a faint crack open between the glass and the frame. She could smell the roses in full bloom from the garden.

Elana heaved a sigh, contemplating whether she should go down for breakfast or not; neither of her parents had been present at Darkwood Manor to welcome their children back, but, with the sun barely visible above the horizon, there was a chance they were still in the house and a chance she would run into them. As much as she _enjoyed_ the awkward and tense silence – and the conversations even more so – Elana decided to wait just a tad longer.

She slumped down on the floor, folded her legs under her and bored began to shift through the contents of the trunk. Soon after the floor was covered in piles of used and unused clothes; first year curriculum books – which would be owled to her back at Hogwarts next year – and more useful books; Potions ingredients; her brass scales; the telescope for Astrology. Elana withdrew her hand as she felt the sharp edge of glass, cutting the tip of her finger. Feeling the iron taste of blood in her mouth as she licked the fresh cut, she carefully rummaged through the trunk and picked out the worst glass shards from the broken vial.

When she was done unpacking Elana suddenly found herself _packing_ once more; she froze in the middle of folding together a clean school uniform and her brow furrowed. Placing the grey skirt in her lap, she leaned back her head and stared up at the dark mahogany ceiling, hair tickling the back of her neck and shoulders. How she wanted to get out of this house already …

_Pop!_

Elana flinched in shock as a small house-elf appeared out of thin air at her side. The creature's bat like ears perked up as it spoke, its squeaky voice high: "The young Miss has been requested to join her family in the dining room." _Great._ She waved off the fretting servant dismissively, having received her parents' summons. When the elf had vanished once more, Elana stood up with a sigh; so much for avoiding them. Putting on whatever was first in her drawers she stepped out into the dark hallway and ran a hand through her hair to loosen the worst knots.

They could not expect her to look _decent _this early in the morning, and if they did – her mother in particular – then it was their own fault for summoning her in the first place without further instructions. Ancient, deceased relatives slumbered in their portraits, old wizards and witches, their clothes and arms richly decorated in a grand display of power and wealth; the heavy drapes were drawn shut over the arched windows and barely any light managed to break through the gaps of the fabric. The footsteps of her bare feet were silenced by the emerald green rug as she scampered down the marble stairway into the entrance hall.

The suffocating, stuffed air from upstairs was brushed aside as a fresh breeze swept in through the opened double doors. Elana got a brief look of the outsides before she steered away, towards the rooms on the ground floor; the neatly and precisely cut juniper bushes, the pebbled lane glittered in the morning sun and the trees of the forest, creating a thick wall of wilderness around most of the grounds.

Voices reached her ears as Elana stepped through the white doorway into the family's dining room. Her mother glanced up, grey blue eyes narrowed slightly in disapproval, and she drawled out towards her daughter: "That took you long enough, Elana. You should not expect us to wait, your father and I have far greater things to attend to." Biting back a sour remark, the young witch curtsied quickly at both her parents and slid into a seat at the table.

Elana created a brief eye contact with her brother, before he redirected his attention to a copy of the Daily Prophet; having lost all appetite at her mother's kind words, she helped herself to a cup of tea and awaited the right moment to speak. Pressing the porcelain cup to her lips she glanced towards her parents; it had been almost half a year since she had last seen them, but – unlike most children her age – Elana had certainly not missed them.

They felt, more than ever, like complete strangers to her.

The woman's tall and slender figure was composed as she exchanged a few words with her husband, her long, corn-yellow, but greying, hair pulled tightly away from her hardened face and lips narrowed into a thin line. Elana barely knew this woman and had inherited almost none of her features … If any at all. "I would like to ask for permission to use the library," she spoke lowly, when the adults' conversation had reached an end.

Her father looked up towards her. "Why?"

"I was tasked to find the Heir of Slytherin and for that I need access to the library files," fighting back the urge to sink down into her chair, her father's dark gaze intimidating as always, she stood her ground. And she well knew she would get her will in this case.

A short silence followed her words, but in the end the wizard responded: "Very well, but _only_ under surveillance; I will not have you ruin the family's prized collection. Your brother will always be present, do I make myself clear?" The siblings nodded in understanding. Elliot had far better things to do than look after her – and they both knew she had no plans to _wreck _the place – so Elana expected, she would be able to be alone in the library once in a while.

And during that time she had no plans at all to look for clues to discover the heir; in fact, she already had quite the hunch where to find Riddle's ancestors, even if the young wizard had strongly requested her to not look into it. Everyone believed her to be far from finished in her search, but Elana felt rather sure she was incredibly close to the truth.

No … What was far more interesting were those secret Dark Arts books.

When Elana could finally excuse herself from the table – her parents had left for work – and return to the comforts of her bedroom, she found a great, snowy white owl pecking away at the glass of the window for attention; quickly allowing it in, she grabbed the white envelope and, with the big bird tamely perched on her shoulder, she pried it open to find a long letter addressed to her. A smile crept over her lips.

Isabella certainly did not wait long before writing.

But deciding against reading the letter inside, where she could be interrupted at any given moment, she folded the paper together carefully, put on a pair of loafers and quickly left the room; the owl had complained briefly, annoyed that the comfortable shoulder had suddenly disappeared, but had shortly after found another good spot next to the bear and dozed off. Elana nearly ran into her brother half-way down the stairs and she hurried to hide the letter behind her back, a polite smile masking her startled expression immediately.

"Albert and Mathew will be here later," he informed her, eyebrow partly raised as he – observant as always, unfortunately – had noticed her odd behaviour. Elana gave a nod and descended another step, making sure to keep her back away from him at all times. "Where are you going?" Elliot inquired, eyes now narrowed completely.

"Out."

"Make sure not to wander too far away."

"Of course not. I will be back later to greet our guests."

Taking two steps at a time, Elana fled the scene and nearly bolted out through the open doors, away from her suspicious brother. Such trouble she would be in if he requested to see the letter … Coming to a halt outside, she took a deep breath and considered where to go for some privacy; the three Slytherin Quidditch players would without a doubt practice the very minute they met, and she would rather not have them pop out of nowhere and take her by surprise.

Steering away from the gravel path and through the grass, wet from the morning dew, Elana stepped into the cool shadows of the woods.

She had often sought refuge under the dense canopy of the forest, alone, and wandered as far as the northern boarders where her family's grounds reached an end; the tall beech woods covered the ground in almost complete shadow, restricting the growth of other plants except for a thick carpet of bluebells – which had always sparked her imagination as a child – that reigned supreme below her feet. Elana knew where she was going. Her feet led the way; past the fallen tree trunk, covered in moss and mushrooms; down the grassy slopes until she reached the creek and then ...

A faint chuckle of running water could be heard ahead and Elana sped up. The steady stream lazily snaked its way through the landscape, weaving in and out between the tall trees; fallen leafs were swept away in the current and smooth stones littered the ground below her feet. She followed the water further downhill, kicking up small stones and pebbles as she went, until the trees opened up ahead into a bright glade; Elana stepped out into the grassy meadow, shielding her eyes from the dazzling sun that was finally able to reach the land.

One time, when she had aimlessly wandered the woods, had she stumbled across the long forgotten clearing; there had once been an old cottage, long before her time, but all that was left of the house now were the rubbles and the collapsed roof, sooty and burned as if from a fire. Elana's attention flickered towards a stone well, overgrown with weeds, and she shivered inwardly as a memory flashed her mind; she lay down into the grass, brushed a strand of hair from her face and unfolded the letter.

_Dear Elana,_

_I shall keep my letters as short as possible, but I do hope you will be able to respond – if you are unable to it is absolutely fine, of course. How are you? My parents send their regards, I've told them quite a lot about you. The good things, not that I mean there is anything bad about you though. And they're eager to meet you, but I guess that is impossible at the moment. Though if you ever have the chance you can always come visit us. It would be wonderful, don't you think?_

_Are you looking forward to going back to Hogwarts as much as I am? I'm practically dying already. Some of the classes are rather dull - History of Magic mostly, Professor Binns really can kill the fun of even the most exciting subjects - but it's worth it. Potions for example. Remember we did the Dreamless Sleeping potion together? I liked that ... let's partner up more often? Or that might not be a good idea ... _

_Did you see my owl? I wasn't sure if I should pick a really midnight black one of this one, but I settled with a snowy owl – I'm glad I did. He's beautiful. If you want to you can use him to send a reply._

_Hope to hear from you soon._

Elana smiled.

There had been a few subtle hints towards Isabella's _unfortunately_ blood status which Elana felt obliged to point out in her response; but other than that it felt nice to have someone to write with. While staring up onto the light blue sky, watching puffy clouds drift by slowly, she picked off grass straws absentmindedly and created a small pile at her side. Leafs and branches rustled in the gentle breeze, a bird whistled from somewhere within the forest. The air was clean.

Her eyelids felt heavy …

It did not take long before she dozed off.


	26. Chapter XXVI

Not sure what made me do it, but suddenly got this weird urge to actually write something for this story once again - it might've been due to the fact I was cleaning out my documents and found the draft for this chapter. I cannot say whether this will be a recurring thing, with me updating and all, but I really quite enjoyed this story so I've decided to give it another chance! This of course means I might continue, but it depends a lot on whether there are actually still people reading this - I've gotten some emails about people favoriting/alerting this story, so I assume there are some even though it has been quite a while since it was last updated.

So basically, want this to continue? Tell me so! (reviews, woop woop) Oh, and I'm a bit out of shape writing so hopefully I'm not expressing myself too differently nor that my writing style has changed.

The parts involving Elana will be flashbacks throughout this chapter - the change from past to present will be fairly obvious as well (hopefully), but just to avoid any confusion I thought I should mention it! Now, enjoy - that's an order!

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter XXVI

* * *

"That was amazing!"

Elana flinched, startled at the sudden sound, and she quickly crushed the flower in her hand. A young Muggle boy, probably around her own age or a bit older, had stepped through the shadow of the trees, out from his hiding place and into the clearing; the child's mouth was wide open, light blue eyes dilated, as he carefully approached. Watching the newly arrived with narrowed eyes, Elana spoke suspiciously: "Are you allowed to be here?"

"How did you do it?" Completely ignoring the witch's question, the boy sat down on the grass and clasped Elana's hands in his; completely taken aback by the Muggle's straightforward approach, her mouth opened and closed at a loss of words. "And don't deny it ever happened. I saw it with my own two eyes! You made that flower bloom!" Her mind sprang into gear once more at those words; the boy had seen her use _magic_.

"You saw nothing," she stated harshly.

"Yes, I did."

"No, you did not!"

Elana attempted to pull her hands away, but the boy stood his ground, fairly stronger than her; then, slowly prying Elana's fingers apart, the Muggle gently salvaged the crumpled daisy and shot her a look. "I did see it – and my dad says the forest is for everyone," he eyed the burned down cottage and the grassy meadow with a quizzical look, quickly blinked and turned his gaze back onto her. "Do you live here?" Baffled by the question, Elana shook her head and answered:

"No, I do no–" She froze mid-sentence, suddenly caught up in the boy's pace. This boy had seen her perform magic and would not be persuaded into believing otherwise. A _Muggle _boy. Elana's parents would punish her severely if they found out … Her face fell at the thought. In a panic, she proceeded to plant her foot straight into his abdomen and made the boy buckle over with an _umph!_. Surprised by her own actions she bolted straight up, voice breaking as she stuttered: "Please, keep what you saw a secret! Y–you're not allowed to tell anyone!"

It took a while for the other to regain his breath, all the while Elana scurried around in utmost distress as she attempted to figure out a solution. Her father would scold her! If not something far worse ... But she froze mid-step as the child rose to his feet, grabbed both her hands in his own and – with Elana gawking in bewilderment – gave a smile.

"Very well! I shall keep it a secret but _only _if you show it to me again!"

She stared.

"What?"

"Show it to me!"

With great delight, he tightened his grip around her hands and pulled her into a sitting position on the soft grass; she felt her knees buckle from the pressure of the sudden change and she nearly tripped over, landing rather roughly. Elana attempted to free herself from his grip, but much in vain. She eyed him slowly, suspicious at his request. Could she possibly trust a child to keep a secret with just that? How could she be certain he would not break the promise after? "No," she responded, finally pulling her hands away. "You will tell, I know it."

"I won't! It will be our secret, I promise, so just do it one more time!" His blue eyes almost sparkled from the clear sunlight, the smile never leaving his features for even a second, and Elana considered his demands one more - her childish trust taking over any distrust and fear she felt towards the Muggle. She pursed her lips, not completely convinced. "It makes sense you wouldn't want others to know! People would probably get scared of it, but I'm not! So please? Just once more," he pleaded.

She scoffed. "Only this once, then!" Ignoring the other's happy cheer, she plucked the nearest flower stalk she could spot; mousy brown hair covered her field of vision as he leaned in closer, intently watching her every move - and she moved slightly back, away from the boy with a huff. While Elana placed the stalk into the palm of her hand, she felt the small sparks of magic flow through her chest, arm and all the way to the tip of her fingers; the witch focused all her thoughts on the flower in front of her, willing it to bloom. _Open _...

Slowly, as if stretching its arms after a deep sleep, the White petals opened one by one to reveal the innermost part of the flower until it was in full bloom, standing in the palm of her hand all on its own. Elana could not keep a small smile from creeping over her lips; it had opened faster than the previous one. The boy, mouth agape in astonishment, gently and with utmost care, touched it with a single finger. "That was really amazing," he said, the words barely a whisper as it escaped his lips.

Their eyes met, both children grinning widely.

Elana could not stop herself and burst into laughter alongside the Muggle boy at their shared secret. The witch felt exulted at her magical performance, something she had never been proud of enough to show to anyone before. Not until now. When the first traits of magic had appeared in her less than half a year earlier, neither of her parents had shown the faintest interest in her – no, why should they? It was to be expected from her, anything else would have been a great shame and disappointment for the family.

"Can you ..." He paused, pursing his lips as if contemplating whether to continue or not. "Ehm ... Do anything else?"

The young witch nodded, black hair falling down over her face; a blush swept over her cheeks at her eagerness and she tucked strands of hair behind her reddening ears, mumbling a response: "A few things, yes ... But it is nothing special. Really, nothing special at all ..."

"Don't be silly! _Nothing special_? You can do magic – how is that not special?"

Elana, still unsure but slightly more confident at his words, got back on her feet and urged the boy to follow; the two children came to a halt at the edge of the well, staring down into the deep darkness below where not even the sun's rays could reach. Her fingers closed around one of the smaller stones from the crumbling walls and, with her arm stretched to the fullest, she held it out over the well. "Watch," she spoke, her gaze fixated upon the round, smooth stone in her hand - then she released it.

At first, the stone plummeted towards the deep and it took a brief moment for her magic to grab onto it. Felling the weight of the stone pull in her mind, Elana once more forced the rock to still; a slight, pulsating feeling could be felt in the back of her mind, but she ignored it and in stead watched the object hover in front of them, wobbling faintly - it took a lot more power to control it compared to the flower, but it did not take long before she managed to stabilize the stone completely.

"Like that," she grinned.

The boy opened his mouth to respond, but he was cut short as another voice rang through the silence of the forest: "Oi! Elana, where did you run off to?" Breathing in sharply, her mind blanked momentarily as she recognized the voice; with an echoing _plop!_, the stone vanished into the watery depths of the well and Elana turned to the other boy - he leaned over the edge of the well, staring down after the rock.

"Why'd you let go-?"

But Elana ignored him. "You need to hide. Go!" Planting her hands against his chest, she attempted to push him off and away from her. He staggered backwards, still attempting to comprehend the sudden change in her behaviour; she managed to drag him towards the trees of the forest, just as the voice yelled out once again - this time a lot closer. "Quickly! Before they get here!"

Their eyes locked for a short moment.

"Promise you will not tell anyone of what you saw here!"

"I promise."

"And no matter what happens now, stay hidden!"

Turning away from the other, she was about to step back into the clearing when he grabbed her arm one last time. He pressed something into her hand; Elana glanced down onto the small daisy and spun around, words forming at the tip of her lips. But there was no one. "Thank you!" She stared into the forest, between the thick tree trunks, hoping he could hear her; then, with a small smile at the flower, she raised her voice and called out to the others: "I'm here!"

* * *

With a faint _thud_, Tom landed on the other side of the iron fence and, as he glanced back to make sure no one had spotted him, slipped further into the overgrown park. The bag felt heavy against his back as he trotted down the gravel path, but he knew that he would at least find some peace and quiet here, compared to the hectic and disorderly ruckus at the orphanage that had driving him this far. No one ever ventured to where he was going.

He slumped down into one of his favorite spots in the park with a heavy sigh; he had been back less than a day, but he was already at wits' end from how the other children had treated him at breakfast - most of the younger orphans had steered clear of him, giving him plenty of space at the table, but the older ones - his tormentors - were not so respectful. With jeering and intimidating remarks at him, he had swallowed the dry, unappetizing bread although it felt more like eating sand.

Even after Tom had retreated to his own room, what had used to be a sanctuary for him, someone had ever so often hammered against his door and the yelling had continued. So, it had not taken long, before he finally abandoned the thought of any stillness to read within the orphanage, and he had fled to the neglected park. He could not understand what had changed since his absence ... Before he had left, even the older children had avoided him after his powers had begun to surface, yet now it felt like they had forgotten all about it.

He would have to change that ...

The rusty bench screeched as he shrugged off the bag, placing it at his side while rummaging through its contents. The smell of decomposed leaves, gathered from layer upon layer over the years, mixed with the blossoming flowers and weed, hung in the air. A mixture of summer and rot ... Tom stared ahead of himself onto the vine-covered fountain, the small trumpet playing cherub covered in dust and grime, and the old, bony trees, casting long, black shadows over the dying lawn. Like most of the area, the park had been forgotten - abandoned - long before Tom was born and was now just another greying, depressing spot in the neighbourhood.

Tom pulled out his Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook and flipped to the page where he last left off; quickly smoothing the curled corner of the paper, somewhat absentminded. He skimmed the words but it did not take long before Tom discovered that he was barely paying attention, forgetting the words long before he finished the sentences. Another sigh escaped his lips and he burrowed his face in his hands.

Before he had left the orphanage to stay at Hogwarts, he had inflicted terror in the hearts of the other children through different means and methods; his eyes hardened. Perhaps it was time to reintroduce those, although in a slightly different way from what he was used to. _Yes_, Tom thought grimly, _it seems so ... _As magic was prohibited outside of school, he would have to make use of abilities untraceable by the Ministry of Magic. "_Come_," he commanded, a sneer forming across his handsome features.

He did not have to wait long.

The first snake slithered across the gravel towards him, eager to heed his call ...

* * *

Elana reached the middle of the clearing, just as the first pureblood emerged from the shadow of the forest; her hand was clasped around the stalk of the flower as she, crossing both her arms across her chest, watched the boy with distaste. "What are you shouting at me for?" The young witch enquired, not masking her anger the least.

"Because you suddenly just stormed off," he responded with a scowl, striding closer with big steps - the wizard's other playmates joined him quickly after, all three of them looked just as annoyed as she most likely did. Elana imagined they had searched the forest for hours, trying to find her again to avoid getting into trouble with their parents - _that _would teach them not to make a fool of her. "Do you know how much trouble we've been through?"

"Do you think I care? Moron Peter!" She snapped back. "Do you really think I will play with you, when you throw stuff at me? I won't!"

"There was no need to get mad over something like that," one of the others interjected, all four boys getting closer to her; Elana quickly eyed them, one by one, feeling slightly uncomfortable and cornered. Were the encircling her? She clasped the flower closer, ready to kick whoever got too close for comfort. "It was just for fun."

"It was just for fun," she mock-repeated him, scowling. "Then let me throw a rock at you, Sebastian, just for_ fun_."

Her head whirled towards Peter, as the boy had taken one step too close. "Enough already, let's go-" All air was pushed out from his lungs as her knee connected with his chest; quickly jumped back to create a distance, she glared at the wizard with a fierce look. As if she would let them walk all over her and then _obediently _go back with them as well! "You stupid girl! One of you grab her or something!" Elana managed to dodge the first attempt made against her, but - quickly discovering four against one was not in her favor - rammed directly into Peter, who firmly grabbed onto her hair and pulled back harshly.

She winced and squirmed in an attempt to get free, arms and legs kicking in all directions in the hope of hitting something - and she succeeded. Her elbow made solid contact with the boy's face and, in a yelp of surprise and pain, he twisted her around and tossed her away from him. Elana slammed directly into the side of the well, and as head met stone, she felt her surroundings spin briefly and nausea wash over her; somewhere in the back of her mind, Elana heard a panicky yell towards her, but she understood too late ...

The stone wall crumbled below the weight of her body and with a scream, she plunged into the darkness below. Scraping both arms, legs and head in the fall, she hit the water after what felt like an eternity. A pitch black world pressed on from all sides, her clothes dragging her further down and she scratched her fingers against the chilling walls for something to hold on to; piercing the surface with a sharp intake of both air and water, she desperately clung to the sides to keep herself above water, coughing madly. Ignoring the thundering pain in her head, the iron taste of blood in her mouth, and her pulsing muscles, Elana squinted through clammy hair towards the faint light above. It seemed so far away ...

"H-help!" Her voice broke as she fought back tears, panicking and trembling from the cold. "Ev-everyone! Please, get me ..."

Nothing but silence responded.

A sob escaped her lips.

* * *

Her legs were cramping up, her breathing heavy and she dropped below the surface more frequently; the sky so high above her had become darker yet no help had arrived. Even if she tried, she could not pry her fingers off the cold stones. At first she had screamed for help until her voice broke completely, her mind in a frenzied state of panic, but all of that had passed ... Elana felt only one thing. _Hope_. She knew someone would come ... all she had to do was hang on and persevere.

Someone would find her.

Her ears twitched at a noise from above, movement, voices; but no sound could escape her dry mouth even though she willed it to speak. A shadow appeared in the opening. "Hold on, I'll get you out immediately!" It was an unknown man, but at that moment she did not care for anything else but getting out. "I will throw down a rope, can you hold on to it?" A splash indicated where she could find the rope and, exhausted, she forced her fingers to act, her legs to kick once more and she blindly sought through the water until her hands clasped around the lifeline.

Elana held onto it as tightly as she could, praying her strength would last until she was out.

Slowly, pull after pull, she felt her body lifted from the icy waters and the light from the setting sun became clearer in her eyes until she finally felt a pair of strong around wrap around her body - Elana shook violently against the warmth of the man, tears spilling violently from her eyes as he gently brushed a hand over her head. "It's okay, now ... you're all right." At first he merely kneeled against the grass and allowed her to cry freely, soothingly rocking her back and forth in his arms. A second voice broke the silence:

"Dad, is she going to make it?"

Turning her head to look towards the familiar voice, she saw the face of the Muggle boy from earlier through a blur of tears. "Y-you ..."

"I hid in the bushes," he smiled apologetic, his face quickly masked in concern, then pointed towards his father. "I ran home when I saw it to get help."

Elana wanted to thank him, but she had still not regained full control of her body and even keeping awake was a battle. In stead she kept eye contact with the boy, hoping he could read her feelings without having her speak. "Miss, you live in the mansion in the forest, don't you?" The man asked her and she forced out a nod. "Right," feeling the larger body shift, Elana was shortly after lifted up so she rested against his shoulder, partly wrapped into his big, coarse leather coat. "Rest for a bit, Miss, I'll make sure you get home safely."

Injured and drenched to the bone, Elana was carried back to her family's estate, weaving in and out of an unruly sleep.

* * *

Tom walked down the road towards the orphanage; he had stayed out far longer than he had planned, but he had been too caught up in practicing his Parseltongue with the wild snakes - snakes that were now concealed in his bag. He could hear their soft, alluring hisses as they called out to him, whispering. Once this night was over, _no one _would ever dare to as much as look him in the eye; they would not call him names, mock or hurt him. No ... it would all change once and for all.

He stepped into the hall, eyes scanning the great clock above the entrance. Most would be in their rooms at that time which suited Tom perfectly; it made it a lot easier to point out his victims one by one, rather than having to seek them out in the common rooms or at dinner. Taking the steps two at a time, he walked towards the sleeping quarters of the older orphans - as he stopped in front of the first door, he opening the bag slightly and, with a soft hiss, summoned the snake. The cold scales touched, almost caressed, his skin as the emerald green snake slithered around his wrist.

Running a finger down the spine of the snake, Tom breathed deeply. "_You know what to do,_" he spoke, kneeling down to the ground to release the snake.

When Tom closed the door behind himself, entering his own room, he ran a hand through his dark hair and smirked widely. They would soon learn not to look down upon him, because he was far superior compared to every single one of those pathetic beings; he pulled out the chair and took a seat at his small desk, resting his head in his hand. The surface of the desk was worn out, with dents and cuts all over from many years of usage; Tom trailed a finger over a particularly long rift, considering his action one final time.

It was all perfect.

"_It is time_."

A sincere laughter erupted from him, his eyes gleaming with delight, as the first scream erupted from one of the neighbouring rooms.

They would all fear him ...


	27. Chapter XXVII

Please leave a review, since no one did it to my previous chapter /weeps :'( And enjoy, of course (After the first part it changes from flashback to current time again, to those that might not notice) and this chapter is rather short, so I'm sorry about that as well ... But when I came to the end I decided to safe the rest for the next chapter!

**Please review.**

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter XXVII

* * *

All the way back through the forest, Elana forced her eyes to remain open as she fought back sleep. Her brain had finally caught up with her body, taking in the pulsating signals of warning; her head was burning up from a fever, but she kept telling herself to stay awake. With her face half burried in the muscular chest of the man, Elana watched the ground pass by below her; the shadows grew longer and longer, darkness falling over the undergrowth as the chuckling sound of water could be heard in the distance.

The young girl had no recollection of how long she had been in the well ... Were her parents out searching for her?

She opened her mouth to guide the two in the right direction, but, with the sound of the creek closing in, decided they already knew the way. A faint taste of blood lingered in the air and she clung tighter onto the warm leather coat; bluebells crumbled under their feet and, with loudly flapping wings, a big bird escaped with a croak through the thick branches of the trees as the young boy spoke: "Dad, are we there soon?"

He sounded slightly exhausted from the walk, attempting to keep up with his father in their trek through the forest. "Almost, the mansion should be just up from here." And he was right; it did not take long before they broke through the forest edge onto the lawn, where the great family mansion loomed above them. The gravel crunched as they headed towards the warm light, seeping out through the windows. "You're almost back now," she felt a coarse hand gently stroke her hair.

Elana pressed her eyes together from the sudden change of light, blinding her. The man tapped loudly againt the glass door facing the back of the mansion. He raised her further up against his shoulder while they waited for someone to respond. At first they were greeted by silence, but slowly, with quick steps, someone approached from the other side. A dark silhouette could be seen through the thin curtains; a bony hand brushed them away and peered out into the dark-grey evening. The housekeeper's nose wrinkled in distaste, watching the unknown man, but then he noticed the small frame in the Muggle's arms.

"Miss Elana!" He quickly pulled the doors open, frantically ripping her from the other's arms; shocked at the sudden change of warmth, as Elana was placed upon the tiled floor, she quietly allowed the old wizard to examine her face. He trailed a finger over one of the many cuts. "Get the Madam," he hissed into the silence of the mansion to an unknown person – Elana assumed it was one of the house-elves – and he once more stood up straight to take in the Muggles. "Who are you?"

The man did a good job ignoring the accusing tone and in stead nodded towards Elana, who attempted to stand upright but rather wobbled back and forth on her feet.

"I'm the one that fished her up from a well, so perhaps you should take care of her now ...? She took quite a few blows in her fall."

"You can be certain we will," the housekeeper responded crisply.

The clacking sound of footsteps could be heard from inside the mansion and Elana stiffened instantly, all drowsiness and pain vanished. "Mr. Meadows, I heard she was finally found?" Her mother's cold voice asked the housekeeper as she, with grey-blue eyes fixated upon the Muggle at her doorstep, paused next to Elana. She did not spare her daughter as much as a glance. "Thank you for bringing our disbehaving child back to us," she spoke, her tone far from grateful and a sneer distorted her beautiful face; clearly dissatisfied by the unwelcomed guests.

Still unfazed by the frosty treatment, the man nodded in response: "Well, of course I couldn't leave her there, now could I? So–" He kneeled down and gave Elana a great, pearly white smile. "–Take care, little Miss, all right? Time for us to go," the young boy gave a small wave, his weary eyes flickering towards her mother as he turned to leave.

Elana, pressed in between her mother and the housekeeper, watched their retreating backs; even if her mother acted as if she would rather have her stay in the well, _she_, at least, was grateful for the Muggles' help. Unfortunately the boy had thought them out of earshot as he suddenly, half-way down the gravel path, told his father: "I think they were jealous – because she can do magic!"

Her body froze instantly at his words, too terrified to even look up.

Her mother's hand curled tightly around her shoulder ...

_'Elana ...'_

Elana bolted upright.

Breathing heavily, she buckled over and clasped her arms around her knees; the sun was baking down on her, her black hair warm against her neck, but she felt chilled to the bone. She had no idea how long she had been asleep. An urge to throw up pressed against her throat, but she forcefully suppressed it – because of that boy, she had received the biggest beating in her life ... and lost what little trust her parents had left in her.

"It was only a dream ..." Feebly attempting to reassure herself, to still her frantically beating heart that thumped loudly in her chest, she forced herself back on her feet. Elana left the clearing without as much as a single glance back; away from the burned down house and the crumbling well, smothering the letter from the Gryffindor witch in her hands. Once more, the young witch cut her way through the forest, weaving in out between the familiar trees, and, casting a long shadow over the green lawn, the mansion loomed high above her.

She halted her steps.

It had taken her a few weeks to recover from her injuries completely, for the bruises to vanish and her bones to heal, and it was first then that she learned of the fate that had befallen the Muggle boy and his family. A terrible, uncontrollable fire had swallowed half the town and its inhabitants; no matter how much water they had doused the flames with, no matter what struggles they went through, it was impossible to stop the houses from burning down to the ground ... and the family with it.

The witch _knew _what had caused the fire. Even though neither her mother or father ever mentioned the incident, nor her rescuers, again she knew very well what they were been capable of – even then, at the age of five, Elana had witnessed their cruelty more than anyone else. Her eyes trailed the surrounding area at the sound of voices; Elliot's guests must have arrived while she was away, even though she had promised to be there to greet them.

Running her fingers through her hair, she breathed deeply.

Then she walked up the grassy slope.

A cooling air closed around her as she stepped into the shade; the hall was abandoned, the voices coming from further within the house. With shoes clacking against the tiled floor, Elana crossed over towards the lounge where she could usually find her brother and his friends. Quickly stuffing the letter away inside her clothes, she peered inside the door; she had been right.

Leisurely occupying the tufted-button leather couches with an air of superiority, suiting their noble ancestry perfectly, were the trio of Slytherin wizards; Gamp was on his stomach, bored twirling a carved, wooden globe around until – with the faintest of interest – paused it randomly, before once more repeating the process; Selwyn brushed dark hair from his face as he, face creased in concentration, leaned across a game of Wizard's Chess. Elana watched his face in silent fascination until the older boy finally decided on a move; her brother discarded his book and examined the board, just as Selwyn removed his friend's white Queen from the game.

Elana chose to finally approach.

The first to notice her was Gamp, bored enough to actually welcome her company; the other two far too preoccupied by the game. "We were looking for you," he stated, not even bothered to get up from his comfortable position to greet her properly; in stead he shifted slightly before spinning the globe once more. "Where were you?"

She watched him blankly.

"Here," then she, with a nod at Selwyn and her brother, took a seat in a vacant armchair, sinking down into the soft pillows. "My apologies, I seemed to have forgotten the time." Her brother dismissed her excuses with a wave of a hand, eyes never leaving the chess game. Elana directed her attention towards it as well. A silence crept over the company; a soft creak could be heard from the globe,and then a _clack_ as Elliot moved a piece across the board.

Selwyn sighed. "Was hoping you had not spotted that ..."

"Unfortunately, I did."

Leaning slightly back into her chair, Elana scanned the room gradually; she felt rather bored, but could not exactly leave her guests until her brother gave her permission. In the far corner of the room, taking up half the wall, was the intricate, warped branches of the Fowl family tree; her relatives' faces, framed in gold stared back at her emotionless. She found her own face next to her brother's. Her eyes trailed back to the game as Selwyn, moving his remaining Bishop with a look of surrender, spoke: "I guess you win this time around – it was a close one, though."

Her brother reached across the board and toppled the enemy's King. "Indeed. _Checkmate_."

"Finally!" Gamp groaned, loudly wording his complaints with great satisfaction. "It very well took forever ..."

As the wizard motioned to get up from the couch, Selwyn chuckled: "I was actually thinking, now that Elana is here that she might be interested in a game as well?" He looked towards her, a smile gracing his face; Elana was about to decline, but – with Gamp giving her the evil eye – decided against it and rather returned the smile. Perhaps a quick game would not hurt anyone.

"I am not very good at it."

Selwyn patted the seat next to him. "Then we can team up; surely we will be able to beat Elliot."

Gamp growled, slumping back down.

* * *

Finally, it was quiet.

Tom rested his forehead against the warm glass of the window, mind clouded in thoughts as he watched the orphans playing in the yellowy, dry grass that surrounded the building. His plan had worked; when he had joined the rest at breakfast the day after the _incident_, they had all avoid him completely, not as much as creating eye contact. There was no evidence against him, but even before he had left for Hogwarts there had been unexplainable happenings surrounding him so of course the blame had fallen on him – and it suited him perfectly.

Making its way up his arm until it settled comfortably around his wrist, the dark green snake observed him silently. Where most of the snakes had returned to the wild once their task was completed – a few had lost their lifes in the process, crushed under panicking children or the adults, rushing to the rescue – the young garden snake had slithered back to Tom's room afterwards. He ran a thumb across its cold scales.

Once more he was feared and avoided in the orphanage, but the difference from previously was that this time Tom could appreciate the isolation. The harassment had ended instantly and he could finally enjoy his summer Holiday in complete silence, withdrawn from the rest of the world inside his small sanctuary; he slid off the windowsill and took a seat at the old desk, allowing the reptile to lower itself to the rough surface as he opened the drawer. Pulling out the books, a crumbled piece of parchment fluttered down onto the floor.

_Try to ask for 'Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy', it may be of use in your search. _Fowl's meticulously written note was slowly, thoughtfully, smoothed out in front of Tom as he just sat there, staring at it. His trail of thought had suddenly changed to the young witch. "_I wonder if she had found anything else ... anything useful,_" he asked in parseltongue to no one in particular. Tom had had a feeling – or rather, he _knew –_ that the witch knew more than she let show, but as infuriating as it was, he just could not control her into telling anything unless it suited her own plans.

But Tom could not ignore the unpleasant, nagging feeling in the back of his mind. It had appeared again and again, more frequent each time, even though he really could not believe it ... The question the witch had raised. The question about his _mother_. He wanted to discard the idea that she had abandoned him even though she possessed magical abilities; it was not because she had been weak but just because she did not _want _him that she could die after giving birth. She had chosen death rather than her own son.

His chest stung at the thought of the betrayal.

Tom swore to himself that one day he would find the truth, and when he did ...

Once he knew the truth he would know whether he really were the Heir of Salazar Slytherin and capable of controlling the beast, lurking within the Chamber of Secrets. The bodiless voice circled his mind, its luring, taunting remarks beckoning him to find it – set it loose. The depressive veil that had clouded his mind was instantly lifted, replaced by an ecstatic feeling of control, _his_ control of such a monster. Would it follow his every order? Make it do anything he wished?

Tom could not wait for the Holiday to be over.

* * *

Once the three Slytherin wizards had finally retreated to the outside, taking to the skies in a Quidditch practice match, Elana was left alone; at first she merely sat in the couch, leaned back as her eyes once more was drawn to the family tree. The dream was still clear in her mind. She heaved a sigh. There was no need to linger in the past.

Forcing herself up she immediately headed towards the library, knowing well she had been given the perfect opportunity to sneak a quick peek in the more_ darker _books in her family's collection. The library was bathed in a faint, warm light and the air smelled of old parchment. She had been set to discover the Chamber of Secrets, but her curiosity got the better of her – there was so much power hidden away within those books, waiting for her to unlock ... If only she could learn it all, to become so powerful, far greater than her family.

Her eyes trailed the bookshelf furthest back in the room, unsure where to start. In the end she decided upon the most ancient looking tome; feeling her fingers close around its old, dusty cover she pulled it out from its resting place. What had once been a rich leather cover had crumbled away in time; spots had appeared all over the front as if something had etched through.

Elana hesitated briefly.

With a hand she brushed hair away from her face as she glanced around. It would be quite unfortunate if anyone walked in on her then; with a deep breath, she pried the pages apart in anticipation and opened the book. She almost let out a snort, flicking through the first couple of pages. There was _nothing _she did not already know!

"Unforgivable Curses ... How is this _dark_?" She muttered under her breath.

Going further through the book, the contents became even more bleak and boring and Elana quickly returned it to the shelf. In stead she reached for another, but was instantly met with disappointment once again. _Nothing_. Finally, she withdrew from the section as she had come across nothing of actual interest – her parents must have hidden the _real _dark arts books somewhere else, somewhere outside her reach and she felt absolutely annoyed by the mere thought.

Crossing her arms across her chest, huffing slightly, she observed the library shelves.

"Guess I have to do what I was supposed to ..."


	28. Chapter XXVIII

I must admit I was very surprised when I saw I had actually gotten a review for this story - I thought it was for As Time Goes By like all the other ones I've gotten warnings about over mail, but it wasn't! So I'd like to thank **ToLazyToTry** for reviewing as the only one for the last two chapters! Thank you very much indeed. Glad I got one review!

I hope others will want to do the same for my next chapters as well, since it really does help a lot :) I decided to jump a bit ahead in my plans and ship them off to Hogwarts again since that's just a bit more interesting to read and write about. It's a slightly short chapter although it felt quite long when I wrote it ... Oh well!

So review and enjoy!

* * *

**It's in our Blood**

Chapter XXVIII

* * *

With a face in deep creases from concentration, and slight boredom, Elana was burried behind several large, wobbling piles of books; after she had opened a few windows, dragged a table over into the shade and ordered a House-elf to prepare lunch, she had proceeded to gather all books, relevant or not at her seat. She never knew exactly where she might come across something useful. Heaving a sigh, the young witch leaned back in her chair and stared absently up onto the ceiling.

Her long hair tickled the back of her neck, so she quickly wrapped it up and fastened it by sticking her wand through the newly created bun. Then, pressing the mug with lukewarm tea against her lips, she stared at the paragraph in front of her. Elana had read it several times, again and again, but her mind felt blank: _In spite of his fellow Founders' acceptance of muggle-borns into the school, Salazar Slytherin created a hidden chamber deep within Hogwarts, in hope that one day his true heir would unleash the monster within to purge all he deemed unworthy to study magic._

The task she had been to seemed far more dangerous than her first assessment. Finding the heir had proven to be quite easy, as he had suddenly appeared before her, but what came after was more than enough to give her a headache. Every time Elana stumbled over words desciping the monster within the Chamber of Secrets, she could not help but despair at the thought of possibly going head to head against it.

Because she would, if she ever hoped to step foot into the chamber.

Elana heaved a sigh in exasperation. Another book was laid out next to her. When she had earlier gone through a rather long list of magical beasts, she had managed to narrow it down to one, very likely, candidate; which did not exactly help on her mood. Exactly how did her parents expect her to handle this situation? Even a fully grown wizard would be in over his head ...

"So we send an eleven year old girl ...?" She mumbled, placing the mug back onto the table with a _clack_. Sometimes she wondered if her parents really wanted her dead. Resting her head in her hands she eyed the half-eaten chicken sandwich, her appetite completely gone. "Makes sense ..." Her ears perked up at the sound of a light chuckle; her head snapped in the direction of the noise, staring at Selwyn's relaxed figure as he leaned against the doorframe. When he stepped closer, Elana, as undetected as possible, closed the book to hide the chapter's title.

"Were you talking to yourself just then?" He asked, an amused grin warming his features. Her eyes followed his movements, but, in order to avoid the question, Elana took another sip of tea and very slowly pressed it to her lips. His eyebrow was partly raised as he dragged out a spare chair and took a seat next to her. "What are you doing?"

"I could ask _you_ the same," she responded, her attention flickering to the side to avoid his gaze.

The wizard leisurely leaned back while, hand deep into the pocket of his robes, pulled out a small, wrapped package and placed it in front of her. "You really think I had forgotten?" Perplexed, Elana gaped in a complete loss of words. Forgotten _what_? "Happy birthday – I should probably add it is actually from both me _and_ Elliot, but you know how he is."

Elana carefully picked up her birthday present, feeling her ears sting in emberrassment; first she pulled the strings apart, then removed the rough paper and revealed a small, black box. With a nail digging in under the lid, she pried the box open to reveal a small, simple silver chain. Elana did receive birthday presents every year from her family, but she had never gotten something _pretty _before; books, quills, potion sets ... "Thank you," the witch said in return, trailing a finger over the necklace.

Selwyn shrugged. "I would say you have to thank your brother as well, though he would most likely deny knowing anything about it. So you are welcome – and I shall let him know, that you liked it. I assume you do?" Elana nodded in response, pulling out the chain; it reflected the sharp light of the sun as she twirled it gently between her fingers in front of her face.

"It is very pretty," she smiled. "I like it."

A silence fell over the two, while Elana placed the jewelry back into its box and Selwyn directed his attention to the books; he picked up the nearest one for closer inspection and his brow furrowed. "What were you doing?"

With both hands resting on top of the box, a finger absentmindedly running over the rim, Elana responded blankly: "Self-study."

"_Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_? I had expected you knew this book from beginning to end already."

She shot him a look. "Of course I do," but her answer merely made him raise an eyebrow further. Elana briefly considered the situation; would it harm asking the older wizard about her suspicion? She assumed the older boy could possibly know more of it than her. "Though I could possibly have _missed_ something ... Have you ever heard of the name Marvolo before?"

"Marvolo?"

"Yes."

"Is that a first or last name?"

"It could be either, I believe."

He hummed lowly. "You are not making it easy for me ... But Marvolo is quite a peculiar name – it sounds old – so I would remember hearing it before if I had." Her face fell; the owner of the name really did its best to elude her scrutiny. "Do you want me to ask around about it? It is possibly–"

She waved off his proposal of help. "It is fine, there is no need to trouble you with such trifling matters. I will figure it out."

At least Elana hoped she would.

* * *

Tom pulled his trunk after him, weaving in and out between wizards and witches on the bustling platform as he cut through the crowd to find a familiar face. Time had passed excruciatingly slow, but at least Tom had managed to pass his summer Holiday locked inside his room in the Orphanage and away from all the other children; now he felt eager to return to Hogwarts.

The air, heavy from steam billowing fro the gleaming scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express, was filled with voices – laughter, chatter and farewells – as parents and family members once more had to say their goodbyes to their children, sending them off for another school year. A pair of light blue eyes caught his attention and his gaze was locked briefly with the Gryffindor girl's; her face lit up in a small smile, which Tom did not return. He passed the witch and her family quickly, but could not stop himself from checking whether he could find another witch in the group.

But of course Fowl would never associate with Muggles, even if the girl was a friend.

He finally decided, rather than trying to find his fellow Slytherins in the large crowd, to get an empty compartment and change to his robes. After struggling to get the heavy trunk up the step, he walked further down towards the end of the train most compartments were bursting with students already and Tom regretted leaving the orphanage as late as he had.

Tom paused in his steps. Just as he glanced over his shoulder, a head popped out of the compartment behind and Avery greeted him with a wave: "You just walked past me, Tom! That's harsh of you." The wizard held the door open, while Tom dragged the heavy trunk inside; from gathered effords it did not take long before it was stuffed away above them and the two Slytherins took a seat across of each other. "Had a nice Holiday?"

"It could have been worse," he responded dryly and scanned the crowd outside, his attention flickering towards the golden clock. At least he had managed to make the Holiday slightly less unbearable. The train would be departing soon. "How about yours?"

"Awful," Avery snorted and waved off the question. "Family gathered to argue just for the sake of arguing ... came and went for about a month. It drove me up the wall in the end, so glad to be going back now." Tom felt rather curious as to what the topic of discussion had been, but if it had been enough to annoy Avery – who was more than fond of quarrelling – then perhaps it was safer not to ask. "I even did some studying just to get away from it ... It really was awful."

A shrill whistle blew.

The noise outside rose to a new level, a panic spread across the families still stuck on the platform and both Tom and Avery watched as students, both young and old, attempted to board the train. Tom felt rather relieved to be able to skip those sentimental partings; it was an immense waste of time. With a loud rumble, the wheels of the train started to move and the platform outside vanished from view, leaving behind waving and shouting relatives; the Hogwarts Express cut through London in a haze of steam.

The compartment door slid open.

"Room for more?" A familiar voice asked, although neither of the two wizards had a chance to answer before the witch stepped inside. Fowl, Tom noted, was not alone. A young boy, about the same height as the witch, half-hid behind her and peered towards them shyly. She ignored Avery's _'Too bad, thought you had missed the train.' _and in stead ushered the boy further into the compartment. "Oh, and hello to the both of you."

"Hello," Tom spoke but his attention was on the boy.

When the wizard noticed the gaze, a blush formed across his cheeks immediately. "Elana–" Tom's eyebrow scurried up at the familiarity between the two."–is it all right for me to be here with you?"

The witch sighed in return. "Yes. Now stop complaining and help me with the trunks already." Shortly after Fowl had taken a seat next to Tom, her usual smile gracing her features as she folded her hands in her lap. The boy tipped slightly back and forth in his feet, unsure of what to do next but was saved from an unusual front.

"You're Alphard, aren't you? Alphard Black?" Avery had silently observed the situation until then. The other meekly nodded. "I did not know you were already old enough to attend Hogwarts, but I guess I was wrong." He looked towards Fowl. "Shouldn't _you _rather introduce us?"

"Very well," she smiled. "Alphard Black, meet Peter Avery and Tom Riddle."

The boy gave a polite nod at both the older wizards before finally taking a seat. "It is nice to meet you."

"I'm wondering ..." Avery ran a hand through his hair, pointing at the two. "It is an unusual combination, I must admit."

"Aphard's older sister, Walburga, left him on his own since she apparently found it below her to watch out for him during the trip. So, while she decided to join her friends in stead, I took pity on him." Fowl seemed to end the conversation as she in stead directed her attention to the pockets of her robes. Avery shot her a dirty look, but in the end slung an arm around the younger boy's shoulders.

"Well, you're welcome to stay here, Alphard! Right, Tom?"

"Yes," Tom responded half-hearted, more concerned about what exactly the witch was rummaging around for. He could have expected a lot of things, but when the witch shortly after opened a box of sweets, it just felt rather absurd. Observing in silence, he watched the witch shake the box of _Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans_ until finally, after a long pause, she decided upon a dark blue bean; suspiciously chewing it, Fowl shrugged and then offered the box towards Tom:

"Want one?"

At first he merely stared at the box in disbelief. But, as she continued to stretch the sweets towards him, even going as far as rattling the box once more, Tom felt obliged to take one. She was rather persistent. "Thank you," he said, now eyeing the greyish white bean, stuck between his fingers with distaste. Perhaps he could discard it when the witch was not looking? But in the end he still popped it into his mouth.

... Soap.

It was then that Tom swore he would never touch them again.

"Yuck ... _bogey_," at least he was not the only one that had picked wrong. In slight amusement he watched as Avery, more than unhappy at his own choice, stared at the witch in distaste. "I bet you did that on purpose!"

"Exactly _how _would I even do that? And anyways, why do you _know _what that tastes like?"

And as usual, the pair began bickering.

Tom held back a sigh and turned his attention to the passing landscape outside the train, catching glimpses of the sun between a heavy curtain of rain clouds; it had been a wet summer, raining almost more than not and Tom hoped the bad weather would pass, before they got to Hogsmeade station or they would possibly have to enjoy the Start-of-Term Feast soaked to the bones.

As the train rattled along, the argument had seemed to die out – Avery apparently running out of breath. Looking into the reflection of the glass, he saw how the two wizards had started talking comfortably, while Fowl was picking through the beans, once in a while settling for a pretty looking colour to taste. The corner of his mouth twisted upwards as her face turned sour for a split second.

A pleasent stillness fell over the compartment.

But, as always, the peace was short-lived, interrupted when the compartment door was loudly pushed open. Tom almost did not feel like turning around – not when Avery's reaction had been what it was – and, not surprisingly, the Slytherin trio appeared in his sight when he did. "What do _you _want?" The blond pureblood boy asked, his face pulled back into a scowl.

"What? We just came to _greet _you all, and then possibly safe poor Alphard from your company." Lestrange responded, taking a step further into the compartment as he scanned the gathered. "Surely there are better people to associate with rather than–" He sneered, cold eyes landing on the only witch. "–others." With her usual smile in place, the girl rose and came face to face with the pureblood wizard. Tom noticed how the boy had grown over the summer – and was most likely well aware of the fact, as he satisfied loomed above the other.

But Fowl seemed unfazed. "You may hate me, Mr. Lestrange, but is there really a reason to take it out on Avery – or anyone else present for that matter?" She asked, shaking her head as she smiled politely to the three purebloods. "Silly boys." But, much to her – and Tom's – surprise, the fourth boy of the argument stood up, anger written across his features.

"I am _tired _of your behavior. Have you ever considered who was hurt the most? Who was _actually _the victim? Come back when you know the answer, morons." Tom watched them all in silence, not sure of the topic of the conversation; Fowl on the other hand stared at Avery in disbelief. And so did the others, but, rather reluctantly Lestrange allowed himself to be dragged out by Mulciber; as the boys left, the witch finally spoke:

"You took my side?"

"Of course. We're friends, aren't we?"

"... How did you jump to _that _conclusion?" She chuckled.

"Oh, shut it."

* * *

Darkness had settled over the platform when they finally arrived; the air was damp from the earlier rain, but the dark blue, starry sky above them was clear. Tom and Avery waited as Fowl, apparently taking the role of _babysitting_ – as Avery called it – quite seriously, helped the boy towards the other first years. Her black hair reappeared in the crowd shortly after and without a word, the witch fell into pace next to Tom.

The three Slytherins followed the older students towards a different path than last year's.

Apparently they were not crossing the lake.

They walked onto a rough mud track, past the red buildings at the station, where several hundred carriages awaited them. Tom paused to take in the sight before him; the coaches sat off on their own every time they were filled with students, bumping and swaying down the roughened path towards the castle. Whether they were controlled by magic on their own or pulled by invisible horses, Tom had no idea; at his side, the two purebloods' faces were pale in the faint light of moon, but, when he looked closer, the witch seemed oddly on edge.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, not out of actual concern but rather curiosity, for he had never seen that expression before. It was a mixture of discomfort and ... delight? The witch tugged a strand of hair behind her ear as she returned his question with a smile. Then, with a shake of the head, she in stead took a step forward as a carriage rattled to a halt in front of them.

"Not at all," she spoke.

Avery opened the carriage door, lingering halfway up the small step but neither of his friends seemed to move. With his attention completely fastened upon the witch, he watched as she reached out hesitantly and then, as if it came into contact with something, Fowl ran her fingers over air. "What are you two up to? Let's get going," the pureblood wizard called impatiently.

She laughed.

Tom could not see what she saw. He took a step closer and placed his hand near hers, and then he felt it as well; he could feel the beating pulse of a heart through the smooth, slippery skin and the bones roughly defined through the thinness of the coat. Avery called out again. "What are these?" Tom asked, running his hand further up the invisible creature's body and felt soft hair tickle his knuckles.

"A _Thestral_ they are almost like winged horses, but look ... different," she finished tamely, but from what Tom could feel between his fingers he knew any explanation would be unjust towards the animal in front of them.

A thought stuck him. "How come you can see them?"

The weird look returned to her face. "They are only visible to those that have witnessed death," she patted the Thestral fondly before pulling away. "Avery is right; we should get going." The witch disappeared into the carriage along with the other wizard, and Tom thoughtfully followed the hairline of the creature's mane before he, too, followed them.

The air inside smelled of mold and straws. As Tom closed the door behind him, the carriage started to move; slowly at first, rustling as it passed through a pair of magnificent iron gates, flanked by stone columns topped with winged boars. But as they passed the gates, the carriage picked up speed down a long slope to the castle; Tom could faintly see the many Towers in the distance, the illuminated windows and the grand facade of Hogwarts. They were finally back.

Swaying to a halt, the carriage pulled up at the entrance; Avery was the first to step off, followed by Tom and finally Fowl. The three Slytherins followed the other students up the stone steps to the castle and further in; the enchanted ceiling was black and cloudless as the sky outside, the air warm and the Great Hall filled with black clad students weaving in and out around each other in an attempt to get to their appropriate Houses.

Slipping down onto an empty seat at the Slytherin table, he barely noticed the witch before she excused herself to in stead join her brother, further down the line. Tom remembered how they still had to keep a low profile in public, well aware that the Fowl brother was more than dissatisfied with him. And then the Start-of-Term Feast began, heralding the beginning of Tom's second year at Hogwarts.


End file.
